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WORLD FAMOUS STORIES IN HISTORIC SETTINGS 


THE NATIONS OF WESTERN EUROPE 


WORLD FAMOUS STORIES 
IN HISTORIC SETTINGS 

By 

SUSIE M. BEST 


VOL. 1. EGYPT AND HER NEIGHBORS. 

Simple studies of life in the ancient world, 
accompanied by historic tales and quaint 
legends of famous characters. 

VOL. II. GLORIOUS GREECE AND IMPE- 
RIAL ROME. 

A panoramic view of active life in the great 
classic nations with stories of their most 
noted men and women. 

VOL. III. THE NATIONS OF WESTERN 
EUROPE. 

A presentation of the great world move- 
ments and stirring activities that dom- 
inated Europe in mediaeval times, with 
romantic stories from the French epics 
and other sources. 

VOL. IV. MERRY ENGLAND. 

A concrete survey of the development of 
the English nation from legendary times 
through the establishment of representa- 
tive government, featuring also many 
striking stories, including a series of 
Arthurian legends. 


WORLD FAMOUS STORIES IN HISTORIC SETTINGS 


THE NATIONS OF WESTERN 
EUROPE 


BY 

SUSIE M. BEST 


mew l^orR 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

1918 


All rights reserved 



Copyright, 1918, 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 


Set up and electrotyped. Published January, 1918. 


MAR 2 1918 

©CI.A492446 


HAMMOND PRESS 
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY 
CHICAGO 




FOREWORD 


It is a rare pleasure to see the world stories which 
every child should know put in this delightful form, 
where they may be equally accessible to schools and 
libraries and homes. 

It has been my good fortune to sit and listen to 
many of these stirring tales, as this remarkable story- 
teller carried her eager audience of boys and girls in 
rapt attention from episode to episode; and also to 
stay to the symposium afterward and hear the chil- 
dren’s exclamations of approbation or disapproval of 
the different characters, and their animated discussion 
of the various ethical questions that were raised. I 
have never seen anything like it anywhere else. It 
seemed to me I could see standards of conduct emerg- 
ing out of the nebulous haze of childish ideals, and 
character taking form under her magic spell. 

The author also has a literary touch that is rare 
even in the best teachers. Her pen talks with colloquial 
flavor and there is a personal and intimate quality 
in her style that holds us throughout the story, though 
we may have heard it often before. She throws in 
enough background to her stories in the way of fact 
and environment to give her characters atmosphere 
which is usually lacking in story books. 

This characteristic has an important effect: The 
great story will take hold of the imagination of the 

V 


VI 


FOREWORD 


children and will make an indelible impression on the 
memory — and in remembering the character, the en- 
vironment will go with it, like the setting of the picture. 
Thus the children, in getting acquainted with a few 
of the great legends of the ages, get also a familiar 
acquaintance with the great civilizations out of which 
ours has sprung. 

Historical perspective is usually lacking in the study 
of American history, but children who read or hear 
these stories will never afterward have the impression 
that Columbus was the first man or that the world was 
discovered in 1492. It is only as we see facts in their 
relations that they are really understood. After these 
books, the children will recognize the roots of our 
own civilization as reaching far back into the cultural 
epochs of the past. 

But more important even than this is the enrich- 
ment of the children’s own lives that must come by 
familiarizing them with the worthiest traditions, the 
choicest sentiments, the rarest arts, and the greatest 
ideals that have come down to us on the stream of time. 

In these stories lie the basal ideas, ideals, and char- 
acters that form our literature, our history, and our 
ethical notions — in short, our civilization. 

The children who are nourished on such fare as 
this will be forever different from what they were 
before. As their imaginations are thus quickened and 
they catch the vision of the world and our own favored 
place in it, they will doubt not — “through the ages one 


FOREWORD 


vii 


increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are 
widened with the process of the suns.” 

I consider, therefore, that these stories, or stories 
such as these, are the rightful inheritance of every boy 
or girl of twelve to fifteen years of age, and that they 
should be read in every grammar school as precursor 
and companion to literature and American history, or 
as a substitute for the usual vapid ethical story in the 
morning exercise period. 

Franklin B. Dyer, 
Superintendent of Schools, 

Boston, Mass. 



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T 0 the Reader: 

The studies and stories in these volumes are of 
unique educational value. The stories are especially 
a delightful weaving together of fact, fable, fiction 
and legend, in picturesque though simple language. 
Able story-tellers are far too scarce. We owe a debt 
of gratitude to anyone possessing the power of pre- 
senting in written form a tellable tale — one that may 
even be read aloud verbatim and carry at the same 
time the rare charm of a tale that is told. 

Susie M. Best is an inspired story-teller. With 
a practically inexhaustible fund of information at her 
command, a vocabulary suited to young folk, and hence 
to old as well, and a personality vividly responsive 
to the spirit of the tale, she has succeeded in doing an 
exceptional thing. She has caught the story-telling 
spirit, held it captive, and sent it to you bound in the 
beautiful phraseology of which she is past master, for 
you to liberate to the lasting benefit and inspiration 
of both reader and listener. 

I have heard these stories told to classes. I have 
read them again in manuscript. They are written as 
they were told. For a number of years Miss Best has 
been at Dyer School in charge of the sixth year his- 
tory work. There has never been a time in all her 
service that the children did not hail the advent of 
the story period with delight, and greet its closing with 
sincere regret. 

ix 


The great value of Miss Best’s work lies in the fact 
that the cultural and ethical effect of her stories is both 
immediate and perennial. I have seen the worst boy 
in the class sit (literally) at her feet, eyes ashine, 
mouth agape, interest aflame; his better nature on the 
outside, and all thoughts of wrong or mischief quiescent. 

Every former pupil coming back to Dyer School 
as a visitor asks for a chance to sit again in Miss Best’s 
room and hear once more the stories he heard and 
loved while still a student. 

I have but two more things to say: I envy you your 
first reading of these stories. That you have never 
heard Miss Best tell one of them is your loss. 

E. W. Wilkinson, 

Principal Dyer School, 
Cincinnati, Ohio. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Children of the Woods i 

11 . Wonder Tales of Odin, the All-Father . . 12 

III. Wonder Tales of Thor, the Thunderer . 23 

IV. Wonder Tales of the Fenris Wolf ... 38 

V. Wonder Tales of Balder, the Beautiful . 45 

VI. Wonder Tales of the Twilight of the Gods 56 

VII. Roman and Teuton . 59 

VIII. Saracen and Teuton 73 

IX. The Story of Charlemagne 98 

X. Count Roland at Roncesvalles . . . .126 

XL Ogier the Dane 148 

XII. The Growth of Feudalism 160 

XIII. The Growth of Monasticism 174 


xi 



Xll* 


CHARLES THE GREAT 




A German village. 


The Nations of Western Europe 

CHAPTER I 

THE CHILDREN OF THE WOODS 

To-day at the name Teuton (tu'ton) a vision of 
Germany arises, but in these stories the name embraces 
much more. The Germans are Teutons, of course, but 
many other peoples are of Teutonic blood also. In 
olden times the names Teutons and Germans were 
applied to any of the tribes living in the region of 
Europe west of the Rhine (rln) and north of the 
Danube (dan'ub) rivers. The Danes, the people of 
Norway and Sweden, the Dutch, the Germans, and 
the English are all of this great family. The English 
are descendants of the Angles and Saxons, tribes of 

I 



2 


WESTERN EUROPE 


Teutons who crossed over from the mainland in the 
fifth century, and settled in the island, then known as 
Britannia (britan'ia). 

The Romans called the northern land in which the 
Teutonic tribes lived Germania (jerma'ni a). It was 
a dreary waste of dense forests and wild morasses (mo- 
ras'es). One of the chief rivers was the Rhine, broad, 
deep, impetuous, and picturesque. Over this great 
northern plain icy blasts swept from the Arctic regions, 
for no friendly mountain barrier interposed a front to 
stay them. 

The long, cold winters, fog and rain, ice and snow, 
and all the hardships they entail upon a wandering 
race, developed the Teutonic forest children into an 
active people, the very personification of health and 
strength, huge-bulked, lofty-statured, and full of 
energy. Unhampered by the restrictions of civiliza- 
tion, they became brave, self-reliant, and thoroughly 
imbued with a love of liberty that is still the most 
marked characteristic of their descendants. 

These Teutons were a handsome people of the 
blonde type, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and rosy-cheeked. 
The women, tall, straight, deep-bosomed, were fit mates 
for the men, and often accompanied them to battles, 
sometimes even fighting in the fields. War was a com- 
mon experience, for contests for hunting grounds and 
farm lands led to much fighting. 

In times of peace, the men followed the chase and 
the women tilled the soil, platted wool into cloth from 


THE CHILDREN OF THE WOODS 


3 


which they fashioned their garments, managed the 
homes, and cared for the children. 

An early Teutonic home was simple and uninviting. 
In summer it was a rude tent-wagon or log hut. The 
advantage of the tent-wagon lay in the fact that when 
pasture failed in one place it was easy to hitch the 
oxen to the wagon and move the whole homestead to 
a more desirable locality. In the winter seasons the 
people abandoned the tent-wagons and went into winter 
quarters, which were simply holes hollowed out in the 
ground. 

The domiciles (dom'isils) were scantly furnished; 
a bench and a bear-skin for a bed, a table and a few 
stools being the chief articles used. There were no 
rugs, no draperies, no curtains, no bric-a-brac. Yet, in 
such a home, simple as it was, dwelt the spirit of true 
hospitality. The door was always open, and the wan- 
dering wayfarer was made welcome to the best that was 
to be had. 

These people were not entirely virtuous, however, 
for they were addicted to the vices of gambling and 
drinking. They often spent their nights quaffing freely 
the home-brewed ale which was served in great ox- 
horns or cups formed from the skulls of enemies. 
Their passion for games of chance was so great that it 
was no rare occurrence for a man who had lost every- 
thing else to stake his personal liberty in a final throw 
of the dice. 

However, they did not descend to the baser vices 


4 


WESTERN EUROPE 


of the Romans. They kept their family life pure, 
and, although a wife was subject to the rule of her hus- 
band, she was held in high honor. Every Teutonic 
woman was supposed to be a prophetess and possess the 
gift of foresight. Some of them were warrior-women 
and made the war-songs of the tribe, or the primitive 
hymns with which they invoked the gods. 

In early times these Teutons did not live as one 
people under one ruler. Instead, they were broken up 
into a vast number of tribes of varying strength, each 
subject to its own ruler, who was chosen by the people. 

The office of king was not hereditary, though the 
choice was usually confined to some noble family, sup- 
posed to have descended from Odin (o'din) or Wotan 
(Wo'tan), the chief of their heathen gods. This tra- 
ditional royal ancestry naturally insured great respect 
for the kings. 

The people were divided into classes; each tribe 
had its nobles, next in rank to the king. Then came 
the freemen, forming the bulk of the tribe, and distin- 
guished by their long locks — the badge of their free- 
dom. The Freemen had the right to carry weapons, 
serve in war, and vote in the assembly. Last of all, and 
of least account, were the slaves, or thralls (thrals), 
whose close-cropped hair and collar of servitude 
marked their base condition. These slaves were the 
absolute property of their masters and could be bought 
and sold at will. 

The tribes dwelt in scattered villages. Each mem- 


THE CHILDREN OF THE WOODS 5 

ber had his own household, but the land was held in 
common and was divided into sections called Marks. 
Part of each Mark was cleared for farming purposes, 
and part was used as pasturage for flocks and herds. 
A certain tree, distinguished by the figure of an eagle, 
and called the Mark Tree, stood like a sentinel be- 
tween two Marks and indicated the boundary line. 
If anyone from either section dared pass the 
Mark Tree without sounding a horn the penalty was 
death. 

Each Mark had a local court by which local laws 
were made and local disputes were settled. The gen- 
eral laws for the entire tribe were made by a general 
assembly of which all freemen were members. 

The gathering of an assembly was a great event. 
It was held in the open air under some sacred tree. 
All the freemen who attended wore full armor, and 
each man carried his shield and his drinking vessel, — 
an ox-horn or a skull-cup, — from which to quaff the 
mead. 

After discussing the questions to be decided, the 
votes were cast. All who favored the measures clanged 
their weapons and shields noisily, while those who 
dissented filled the air with sepulchral (sepul'kral) 
groans. This was a strange method of election, and yet 
the very right to appear at that assembly and take part 
in it was the germ of the present-day ballot. 

The tribes had a set of unwritten laws which were 
taught by word of mouth. Infringement of these laws 
2 


6 


WESTERN EUROPE 


was followed by arrest and trial. Their forms of trial 
were by oath and by ordeal. 

In the trial by oath a certain number of men of the 
same rank as the accused testified as to his innocence. 
If he could get the required number of vouchers to 
appear for him, he was vindicated. Of course, in this 
way a really guilty person often escaped. The number 
of vouchers required varied with the rank of the 
accused. A noble needed fewer than a freeman, and a 
serf needed such a large number that he could seldom 
provide them. 

The trial by ordeal was a test. If the accused pro- 
tested his innocence, he was forced to prove it by 
plunging a naked arm into boiling pitch, or water, or 
oil, or walking barefoot over red-hot coals or irons. 
If his wounds healed in a certain time, he was inno- 
cent; if not, the verdict was guilty. 

Sometimes the culprit had a private conference 
before the bar of justice and the presiding judge, and, 
in consequence, when the time of test arrived, the means 
of trial, supposed to be red-hot, would only be luke- 
warm, and thus the innocence of the prisoner was at 
once established. 

Punishments were made by fines. Wergeld (ver'- 
geld) was a term used to denote the money value 
placed upon a man’s life. The wergeld varied accord- 
ing to the rank of the slain individual; a murdered 
noble’s wergeld was of considerable value, while that 
of a slave’s was less than the fine for a slain ox or horse. 


THE CHILDREN OF THE WOODS 


7 


The Teutons were natural warriors. Their very 
religion taught them that to die on the battle-field was 
the most honorable death. A chief or leader was 
always a man who had distinguished himself by con- 
spicuous bravery in war. Such a hero was placed upon 
a shield and lifted high in the air. Then, with clash 
of arms and shouts of acclaim, he was hailed as chief, 
his admirers vowing by Odin and Thor (tor) to follow, 
let him lead where he would. 

The early Teutons, like all other primitive people, 
worshiped many gods. Nature, with her varied 
aspects, is always an incomprehensible marvel, and her 
seeming mysteries symbolized (sim'bolizd) to these 
people mighty beings that became gods. 

All the Teutonic nations worshiped the same gods 
and believed the same stories concerning them. These 
stories are preserved in wild chants or poems, called 
sagas (sa'gaz), which were composed by poets called 
scalds (skalds). These sagas were guarded in a pecu- 
liar way and came to light in a strange place. Many 
years ago certain of the northern Teutons of Europe, 
to escape the oppression of their conquerors after a 
war, fled to the island of Iceland. Here they kept 
their old faith and made their sagas in honor of their 
gods. 

Iceland suited the wild stories. Thomas Carlyle, 
a great British writer, gives us a beautiful description 
of Iceland. He tells us it is “a land, burst-up, the 
geologists say, by fire from the bottom of the sea; a 


8 


WESTERN EUROPE 


wild land of barrenness and lava; swallowed many 
months of every year in black tempests; yet with a 
wild, gleaming beauty in summer-time; towering up 
there, stern and grim in the North Ocean; with its 
snow giants, roaring geysers, sulphur-pools, and horrid 
volcanic chasms, like a waste, chaotic battle-field of 
frost and fire.” 

We scarcely expect to find in this land that a written 
record was kept, but such was the case. In early Chris- 
tian times, a priest named Saemund (sa'mond), who 
was teaching in Iceland, became acquainted with the 
old sagas and wrote them down. His book is called 
the “Elder Edda” (ed'a) . About a hundred years later 
another man wrote a prose account of the stories. His 
book is called the “Younger Edda.” It is from these 
books we gain an insight into the religious belief of 
the early Teutons. 

Looking through the stories we see clearly that they 
were inspired by the conflicts of nature in northern 
climes. The troublous manifestations of frost, fire, and 
tempests became jokuls, or giants, abhorrent and hostile. 
Summer, the miracle of grass and flowers, and the 
genial, life-giving warmth were benign gods. 

According to these people the universe was divided 
into three realms, Asgard (as'gard), Midgard (mid'- 
gard), and Niflheim (nif’lhim). 

Asgard was the home of the gods. It was high 
above Midgard, the home of men. Entrance to Asgard 
could only be effected by crossing Bifrost (bif rest), 



A Valkyr riding to battle. 


g 








lO 


WESTERN EUROPE 


the trembling rainbow bridge, which lifted its arch 
high over Midgard. 

In the shining city of Asgard there were palaces 
of gold and silver for the gods, the most beautiful being 
Valhalla (valhal'a), the home of the mighty Odin. 
Valhalla was the reward of heroes of battle. Its walls 
were fashioned of spears, its roof of shields, and its 
benches were armor-decked. To this magnificent hall, 
the souls of slain heroes were carried by the Valkyrs 
(val'kirz), the air-maidens of Odin, the Choosers of 
the Slain, whose duty it was to select the souls for Val- 
halla. In the great hall the fortunate heroes enjoyed 
alternate fights and feasts, a life that meant perfect bliss 
to their savage souls. 

Opposed to Valhalla was Niflheim, the desolate 
realm of darkness where Hel (hel), the pale goddess 
of death, held undisputed sway and ruled over nine 
worlds. 

The Frost Giants were the great enemies of the 
gods, always contesting with them for the mastery of 
the universe. Dwarfs and giants, cunning, shrewd, and 
skillful, dwelt in the underworld, fashioning wonderful 
things at their magic forges. Elves and fairies sported 
joyously in Alfheim (alf'him), the place twixt heaven 
and earth. 

Among the gods and goddesses were Odin, the All- 
Father; Thor, the Thunderer; Tyr (tir), the one-armed 
god of war; Frey, the god of summer winds; Balder 
(bal'der), the Beautiful, the god of light; Frigga 


THE CHILDREN OF THE WOODS 


II 


(frig'a), the wife of Odin; Freya (fri'a), the goddess 
of love, and golden-haired Sif (sef), the wife of Thor. 

We shall learn something of the wonder tales about 
these deities. 


L 

Odin, the All-Father. 

CHAPTER II 

WONDER TALES OF ODIN, THE ALL-FATHER 

Odin was the most powerful of all the gods. He 
was called the All-Father. One could not by any 
chance mistake him, for he always wore a flowing 
mantle of blue with countless specks in it. It has been 
whispered that this robe of Odin’s was only the blue 
sky, and the specks, fleecy clouds. 

Nothing could escape the knowledge of Odin. He 
knew all things, for his two ravens. Thought and 
Memory, perched upon either of his shoulders, kept 
their keen eyes upon all things, and ever whispered into 
his ears the happenings among men. 

Not only did Odin know all things, but he was very 
wise. Wisdom and knowledge are not always the same 
thing. For his wisdom Odin paid a high price. 
Having heard of the wonderful Well of Wisdom, he 



12 


WONDER TALES OF ODIN, THE ALL-FATHER 13 

determined to drink from its waters. This well was 
in a strange and dangerous place, for it was situated 
at the foot of the great earth-tree, Ygdrasil (ig'dra sil) , 
which reared its branches to Asgard, the home of 
the gods, and pierced its roots deep into the dreary 
land of Hel, the region of the dead. The well had 
wonderful properties. From him who drank of its 
waters, nothing was hidden ; to his gaze the Past opened 
her pages, and for him the Future broke her seals. 

Odin could not rest till he had drunk from the well. 
Clad in his mantle of blue, he sallied forth and jour- 
neyed from his palace in Asgard, till he reached the 
well, which was guarded night and day by an old giant 
called Mimir (me'mir). Of him Odin craved the 
wished-for draught. 

Mimir had the deepest and wisest eyes of all crea- 
tures, and when he heard Odin’s request, he turned 
those wondrous orbs upon him, and said thoughtfully, 
^^He who drinks of the waters pays the price.” 

Then said Odin, “Tell me the price, I pray you.” 

“He who would quaff from the well,” replied 
Mimir, “pays with an eye.” 

Even Odin paused at this demand. An eye! 
Almost, he thought, he would rather part with his life. 
And yet, wisdom 1 Yes, he would pay the price. Wis- 
dom was worth it. As he reached his decision, he 
lifted his hand and plucked one of his precious eyes 
from its socket, saying, as he handed it to the amazed 
Mimir, “Here, I pay the price; give me of the drink.” 



“Here, I pay the price; give me of the drink.” 


14 






WONDER TALES OF ODIN, THE ALL- FATHER 15 

Taking the eye from Odin’s hand, the giant gazed 
on it long, and then, muttering a strange rune, he cast 
it far down into the well, bidding the god drink his 
fill. 

Thus it was that Odin exchanged an eye for wisdom, 
which is never obtained without a costly price of some 
sort. The eye that the god retained grew strangely 
bright, so bright and all-seeing that some have said it 
was the sun itself. 

Odin returned to Asgard to Valhalla, but ever after 
he carried in his bosom sorrow, for his knowledge of 
coming things weighed on his soul. When the gods, 
reckoning not of the future, boasted of their eternal 
youth, and the imperishable splendors of Asgard, Odin 
gazed upon them sadly, but he said nothing, although 
he knew that the last great day was surely creeping on, 
when Asgard and the gods would all pass away and 
become but as a dream that is dreamed. 

Having obtained wisdom at a fearful cost, Odin 
set about obtaining another wonderful gift — the gift 
of song and poetry. He obtained this by drinking of a 
certain precious mead. 

The queer little dwarfs who dwelt in the under- 
world had, in envious malice, slain the world’s most 
wonderful man — its first poet. From the blood of their 
victim the evil creatures brewed a magic liquor, the 
Mead of Inspiration, a single draught of which could 
transform a common man into a poet one able to work 
musical magic with mere words. 


16 


WESTERN EUROPE 


Unfortunately for the dwarfs, a giant named Sut- 
tung (sut'tung) got them into his power and would 
accept as their ransom only the precious mead. Reluc- 
tantly, but to regain their freedom, the dwarfs parted 
with their prize. 

As soon as Suttung had it in his possession, he took 
it home, and, for safe keeping, secreted it in his cellar, 
placing his beautiful daughter Gunlod (gun'lod) with 
it as a guardian. This really made Gunlod a prisoner. 
It was a. dreary life for a lovely girl, shut in a cellar, 
guarding a mead she was forbidden to taste. While 
Gunlod was guarding the wine, Odin’s two ravens. 
Thought and Memory, discovered the whole affair and 
reported it to him. 

Thereupon said Odin, “Since I drank from Mimir’s 
well, I have been the wisest of all beings, and now 
never will I rest till I bring into Asgard the divine 
mead of poetry.” 

The gods in Asgard were used to Odin’s absences, 
and they made no comment when he donned his blue 
mantle and started on his journey to Jotunheim 
(yo'ton him), where dwelt Suttung, the giant. 

Now, though Odin was a god, and very powerful, 
the giants were powerful also, and it was impossible 
for him to get into the cave where the wine was hidden, 
without assistance. He planned to get that assistance. 

When he arrived at Jotunheim, he took the road to 
Suttung’s house. On his way he passed through a field 
that belonged to Baugi (bage), one of Suttung’s 


WONDER TALES OF ODIN, THE ALL-FATHER 17 

brothers. In the field there were nine thralls, or 
servants, cutting the grass for hay. 

Odin stopped and looked at them. ^^Ah,” said he, 
“I see by your close-cropped hair, and the collars you 
are wearing, that you are thralls. To whom do you 
belong?” 

The thralls made answer, ^To Baugi, brother of the 
great giant, Suttung.” 

^^How slowly you work,” said Odin. “Why do you 
not cut faster?” 

“Cut faster!” echoed one of the thralls. “Who 
could cut faster with scythes as dull as ours are?” 

“Poor fellows,” exclaimed Odin. “I am sorry for 
you. Let me sharpen your scythes with my whetstone.” 

In an instant the thralls crowded around him. 
When he had sharpened their scythes, and they had 
tested them, and had seen how cleanly and how swiftly 
they cut the grass, they set up a cry, entreating him to 
sell them the stone. 

“I will give it to you,” said Odin, “but you must 
fight for it.” So saying, he flung it high into the air. 

Alas for the foolish thralls! They all jumped for 
it at once, and in the furious fight that ensued every 
thrall of them was slain. 

This was just what Odin wanted to happen. 
Turning from the field, he hurried on his way till he 
came to the house of Baugi. Of course, everybody, — 
even a giant, — ^was hospitable in those days; so, when 
Odin asked for entertainment, he was made welcome. 


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As they were eating their supper, Baugi said to his 
guest, am in great trouble. My nine thralls have 
been killed and I know not how to fill their places.” 

Said Odin “I am looking for work, why not hire 
me?” 

“How can you do the work of nine thralls?” asked 
Baugi, scornfully. 

“Try me and see,” was Odin’s answer. 

“And what shall I pay you?” asked the giant. 

Odin spoke slowly, “I will take but one thing for 
my wages, and that is a drink from the mead your 
brother Suttung has hidden in his cellar.” 

The mead! Baugi started. He was surprised to 
find that a stranger knew of it. 

“I do not know that I could get you the mead,” he 
replied. “Suttung certainly never would give it to me 
for you.” 

“Promise,” said Odin, “to lead me to his cellar, and 
to help me to get it, and I will do your work.” 

Baugi was so anxious about his fields that he con- 
sented. In his heart he meant to escape fulfilling his 
promise if he could. 

Odin went to the fields and when in due time the 
task was completed, he claimed his reward. So there 
was nothing left for Baugi to do but to lead him to the 
cellar of Suttung. 

Now this cellar was really a secret cave in a hollow 
mountain, and it was walled securely all around. How 
to gain an entrance was the question. Baugi was sure 


WONDER TALES OF ODIN, THE ALL-FATHER 19 

it could not be done. Odin knew better. Handing 
an auger to Baugi, he bade him bore a hole in the 
mountainside. Baugi at first thought of refusing, but 
there was suddenly something so strangely grand and 
commanding about his servant that he feared to disobey 
him. So he began boring with the auger, wondering 
how that was going to lead to an entrance. 

When he had bored but part way he stopped, think- 
ing to deceive his companion. “Here,” he said, hand- 
ing back the auger, “I have finished.” 

But Odin had a test ready. He stepped up to the 
hole and blew into it. The dust immediately blew 
from it into his face. Of course, this proved that 
Baugi had. only partially bored the hole. Odin was 
very stern. “Finish your work,” he said, handing the 
auger to the deceiver. 

This time the giant acted fairly, and when he com- 
pleted his task, he turned to give the auger to his 
companion. Imagine his dismay to find him gone! 

Gone — yes! But ah I creeping up the wall, and 
making straight for the hole, was a small white worm. 
Baugi wondered what it was. Then he guessed; and, 
when the worm reached the hole, he spitefuly pushed 
the auger in after it, hoping to kill it. 

But he was foiled, for a voice, the voice of his work- 
man, called out triumphantly, “Too late, Baugi, too 
late! I am in safe.” 

Gunlod, in the cave, was sitting disconsolately 
beside the vessel of divine mead. The great walls of 


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the hollow mountain closed around her, and far, far 
above her she could see a small patch of blue sky. She 
was just thinking ho.w tired she was of her task, and 
how she wished there was some one to talk to, when lo! 
there stood before her a fine young man! 

A young man! How did he get in there? Where 
was the worm? 

Gunlod was surprised and delighted to have a visi- 
tor. Such a pleasant one, too, for the young man said 
all sorts of sugar-sweet things to her. She ought not 
have listened, but she did. When he had flattered her 
in every possible way, and had praised her beautiful 
hair, and her starry eyes, and her sweet voice, and her 
gentle manners, he mentioned the wine.* Surely so 
sweet a maid would give a thirsty friend just a sip of it. 

She was all alarm at once. “The mead? Oh, no! 
no! I dare not! Suttung would surely slay me.” 

“Just three sips,” he pleaded. “Suttung will never 
know.” He pleaded so convincingly that finally she 
yielded. “Now mind,” she cautioned, “just three sips 
and no more.” 

“Yes,” assented Odin, lifting the vessel to his lips, 
“just three sips.” Three sips were all he took. But 
such sips! When he finished the last one, there was 
not a drop of the mead left. 

Gunlod looked into the vessel. Empty! Full of 
alarm, she turned to reproach her guest, but all she saw 
was a great eagle flying far up the hollow mountain to 
its very summit. 



When Odin finished the last sip, there was not a drop of the mead left. 


8 


21 



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An eagle! How did it get there? No young man 
in the cave! What had become of him? Suttung, the 
giant, who entered the cave at that very moment, 
guessed what had happened. He knew the culprit was 
Odin, and, hastily changing himself into an eagle also, 
he started in pursuit of the god. 

All the deities of Asgard gathered upon the rim of 
the celestial regions to watch the chase, and leaning 
over the shining ramparts, gazed with anxious eyes. 
Suttung seemed to gain upon Odin. The watching gods 
held their breath. “Faster, faster. Father Odin,” they 
cried to him. 

Odin heard and he knew that his pursuer must be 
near. “Gather the firebrands!” he called to the watch- 
ing gods. “Kindle a flame on the edge of Asgard!” 

They obeyed him at once and heaped up a vast 
pile of brands and set them ablaze. Scarce was the 
pile aflame when Odin fluttered safely through it, 
almost exhausted, followed closely by Suttung, who, 
being but a frost giant, was at once consumed in the 
flames. 

Thus it was that Odin, the All-Father, brought the 
precious mead of poetry, of divine inspiration, to 
Asgard. Since then sometimes a single drop of the 
marvelous mixture is vouchsafed to some favored mor- 
tal, who thereupon becomes a poet, living in a land of 
fancy, sailing upon wings of wonder to the very edge 
of the world, feeling the flash and the glory of the 
higher, nobler sphere of the soul. 



Thor, the Thunderer. 


CHAPTER III 

WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 

Next to Odin, Thor was the most powerful of the 
gods. His spacious palace had five hundred and more 
halls in it. One always knew when Thor was coming, 
for he heralded his arrival by fierce lightnings and a 
dread thunder-peal. When he was angry he drew his 
bent brows together like two black clouds. 

Thor had a fair young wife, the lovely Sif, whose 
greatest beauty was her magnificent hair, which envel- 
oped her from crown to toe like a glittering veil of 
purest gold. It was the most beautiful and most luxu- 
riant hair in the world. Sif was very proud of her 
tresses, but not more so than was Thor, her husband. 
But trouble came to the radiant locks. 

In Asgard dwelt Loki (lo'ke), an evil mischief- 
23 


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maker. His chief joy was to spoil the joy of others. 
He had never succeeded in bringing trouble to Sif and 
Thor, though he had tried hard enough to do so. But 
one day his chance came. It happened on a bright, 
clear day, when, in spite of the dazzling sunshine, there 
was a strange chill in the air, that Loki paid a visit to 
Sif’s palace. Sif was sound asleep when he came, and 
her long, lovely hair all loosened, was floating about 



“She shall have a hair-cut, and no 
charge for it.” 


her. As Loki gazed upon her in her sleep, an idea 
struck him and he chuckled maliciously. “Here’s my 
chance,” he muttered. “I will trick Sif nicely. She 
shall have a hair-cut, and no charge for it.” 


WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 25 

So saying, he slipped out his long knife, and then 
very quietly snip, snip, snip ! While she slept serenely 
on, all unconscious of her loss, he cut off the precious 
locks so close to her head that when he was through 
she was perfectly bald! You can imagine what she 
looked like. 

Loki was delighted with his evil work. When he 
saw how changed she was without her lovely hair, he 
laughed wickedly. “Oh, ho! Sif,” he murmured, “I 
have spoiled your beauty, and I wonder what Thor will 
say!” Satisfied, he stole away lest anyone should dis- 
cover he was the culpfit. 

Sif awoke soon after. She wondered why her head 
was cold. Lifting her hand to it she discovered her 
loss! Such an outcry as she made!, “My hair! my 
hair! my hair! Someone has stolen it!” 

Sobbing and storming availed her nothing. The 
hair was gone. She looked in a mirror, and when she 
saw her changed appearance, she was shocked and, 
vowing no one should ever see her again, she hid 
herself. 

Thor came home after a time. Sif was not to be 
seen. He called and called. There was no answer. 
Then in alarm he began to search for her. Finally he 
found her in a distant room, hiding her head. 

“Dearest Sif,” he said, “what has happened?” 

“My lovely hair! my lovely hair!” she sobbed. 
“Some one stole it while I slept, and now I am bald and 
unbeautiful! Oh, my hair! my hair!” 


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If LokI could have seen Thor then he would have 
trembled indeed! Such thunderings and lightnings of 
rage! His wrath was a veritable tempest. 

^Tt is Loki!” he cried. “Only Loki, the evil one, 
would do this! Oh, let me but catch him, and he shall 
pay for his deed with his life. Stay here, Sif, till I 
find him and kill him.” So he kissed her hurriedly, 
and off he started in quest of Loki. 

That wicked creature was hiding in some bushes 
near a stream, and when he heard Thor thundering 
along, he guessed his mission, and, in great fright lest 
he be caught, changed himself, into a salmon, and 
jumped into the stream. 

His transformation did not save him, for Thor soon 
discovered him, and catching him, compelled the cul- 
prit to resume his natural form. Then he clutched the 
wretch by the throat, and vowed he would choke him. 

“Spare me,” gurgled the alarmed Loki, “spare me, 
and I will go to my friends, the dwarfs, in the under- 
world, and I will get them to give me for Sif a more 
beautiful head of hair than the one I stole from her.” 

At this Thor relaxed his hold on Loki’s throat. 
“Come to Sif,” he said. “She shall decide this ques- 
tion.” 

When Sif heard of Loki’s proposal, she begged 
Thor to spare him. “Anything,” she said, “to get my 
hair again.” 

So Loki, released, set out to seek the dwarfs. He 
found them in their caves in the mountains. They 


WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 27 

were queer looking little men with great green eyes, 
large heads, and tiny legs. They dared not face the 
light of day, for it was said the sunlight would turn 
them to stone. 

Loki was acquainted with certain of these dwarfs 
known as Ivald’s Sons. To them he made known his 



The dwarfs give Loki the gifts for 
the gods. 


wishes, and the dwarfs, proud of an opportunity of dis- 
playing their wondrous skill, promised, not only the 
hair for Sif, but also a spear for Odin, and a ship for 
Frey (fri), the smiling god of summer. 

When the treasures were completed, and Loki saw 


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the hair, he knew his boast had not been an idle one, 
for the new locks were richer and more beautiful far 
than the stolen tresses. “Let them but touch her head,” 
said the dwarf who made them, “and at once each hair 
shall become alive, so naught shall ever again have 
power to despoil her of the tresses.” 

As for the spear intended for Odin, it was a magic 
one that could never miss its aim. But the ship ! That 
was the greatest marvel, for it could ride over land and 
sea alike, and was capable of expanding itself till it 
could carry all the gods at once. It could be made so 
small as to be folded and carried in a pocket. 

Loki was delighted with the gifts and he passed out 
of the jewel-studded cave, declaring that Ivald’s sons 
were the cleverest dwarfs in all dwarfland. 

Now in the land of little people there was a very 
famous dwarf named Sindre (sin'dre). A brother of 
this dwarf, Brok (brok) by name, heard Loki’s boast- 
ings, and he was indignant that any one should dare say 
another was more skillful than his brother. 

“Ivald’s sons are cunning,” he said to Loki, “but 
nothing they are able to fashion can equal the treasures 
that come from the forge of Sindre, my brother.” 

Loki laughed scornfully. “I will bet my head,” he 
said, “that Sindre cannot equal the gifts given to me by 
Ivald’s sons.” 

“I will take your wager,” replied Brok. “We will 
soon show you.” And therewith he sought his brother’s 
forge and laid the matter before him. 


WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 29 

^^How many gifts has he for the gods?” asked 
Sindre. 

^‘Three,” replied Brok. 

‘‘Very well,” said Sindre, “we will make three also.” 

He began to work. Getting some gold, he put it 
into the furnace; and, bidding Brok blow the bellows 
and on no account to stop for one instant, he went out 
of the cave to repeat, in secret, some magic runes to aid 
in the work. 

Now, a vicious gadfly, that had not been there an 
instant before, flew to Brok as he blew the bellows and 
stung him hard upon the hand. The pain was great, 
but Brok kept on blowing, and the gadfly, which was 
Loki, was foiled and full of rage, for when Sindre 
returned he drew from the furnace a wonderful ring for 
Odin. 

Next, he put a swine-skin into the furnace, and, hav- 
ing cautioned Brok to blow the bellows constantly, he 
retired again to repeat the magic runes. 

Brok worked faithfully at his task, but soon that 
troublesome gadfly came again, and, settling on his neck, 
stung him a second time. 

The pain was even greater than it was the first time, 
but Brok only said, scornfully, “Wicked one; you are 
Loki, I know, but never shall I spoil my work for 
you.” 

When Sindre came back, he looked in the furnace, 
and drew out a boar covered with bristles of purest 
gold. Then he got ready for the third test. This time 


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he put some iron into the furnace, and giving Brok the 
same warning, he went out as before to chant the magic 
runes. 

Brok blew away, nor paused a second, though the 
gadfly fluttered here and there about him, trying to dis- 
tract his attention. At last, seeing that the dwarf would 
not stop, the cruel creature lighted upon his eye, and 
stung him so severely that the blood began to flow. 

Maddened by the pain, and almost blinded by the 
blood, Brok paused for a moment to rub his eye. 

Just then his brother returned and rushed to the 
furnace. ^‘Another moment and it would have been 
spoiled,” he cried, drawing from the furnace a wonder- 
ful hammer. “See,” he said, “the handle is a little too 
short, but that cannot be helped now. However, it 
will be powerful enough as it is to protect the gods 
from the Frost Giants. Go now and take your gifts to 
Asgard.” 

When Loki and Brok arrived at Asgard all the 
gods were gathered for the judgment. Thor sat with 
his arm around Sif, who had a mist wrapped about her 
head to hide her baldness. 

“Where is Sif’s hair?” he thundered to Loki. 

“Here,” answered Loki, triumphantly, handing him 
the crown. Thor placed it upon Sif’s head, and won- 
der of wonders! it immediately grew fast to her scalp, 
and all the gods and goddesses, crowded around her, 
admiring it, and declaring it was brighter than the 
stolen tresses. Sif was happy once more. 


WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 31 


Loki, well pleased with himself, presented the spear 
to Odin, and the ship to Frey. Both gifts were received 
with great favor; and then it was Brok’s turn. 

Lifting the ring, he said, “Here is the ring, 
Draupnir. Every ninth night it will drop eight rings 
like itself. It is the emblem of perpetual fertility. 
Never, while Odin wears it, will earth fail of her gar- 
ment of flowers or her carpet of verdure.” 

Odin thanked Brok for the ring, saying, “Of a truth, 
it is a wonder; yet hardly can I choose between the ring 
and the spear. But show us what you have for Frey.” 

Then Brok brought out Golden Bristle, and said, 
“Bright as the middle noon these bristles can make the 
darkest night, and over land and sea alike, swift as the 
flight of a bird, is the flight of Golden Bristle. This 
is the gift of Sindre, the dwarf, to Frey, the gentle 
god of summer winds.” 

Frey thanked him for the glittering charger and 
said, “Wonderful, indeed, is the boar, but so is the ship 
Skidbladner (skid blad'ner) , and scarcely can I choose 
between them.” 

“Show us what you have for Thor,” said Odin. 

Then Brok brought forth the hammer. “Naught,” 
he said, “that is shapen may withstand this hammer. 
The mountains themselves may be cleft by it, and by it 
the Frost Giants and their glittering palaces may be 
shattered into fragments. Moreover, it will always 
return to the hand that hurls it. This,” he added, “is 
the gift of Sindre, the dwarf, to Thor, the mighty one.” 


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Thor took the hammer to test it, and swung it over 
his head. The lightnings scarred the skies and the 
thunder roared and rumbled. 

^‘Brok! BrokI” cried the gods in chorus. ‘^Brok has 
won! With such a weapon as the hammer, Asgard 
may hurl defiance at the Frost Giants.” 

Thus it was that Brok won the wager. 

“Come now,” he said to Loki, “forfeit me your head 
as you pledged.” 

Loki, however, had no intention of parting with 
his head. He refused to pay the forfeit, adding, 
“Unless you can take my head without touching my 
neck.” So, as this feat was an impossible one, Brok 
was compelled to relinquish his claim. He managed 
to punish the trickster anyway by obtaining permission 
from the gods to sew the lips of the deceiver together. 
With an awl he bored a hole through the lips, and, 
running a thong through the hole, fastened them 
securely. 

The hammer did such good service against the Frost 
Giants that it was considered the most precious treasure 
of Asgard. So careful was Thor of it that he always 
slept with it within reach. 

One night Thor had a bad dream. He stirred 
uneasily in his sleep, for he thought the hammer was 
gone and Asgard was at the mercy of the giants. When 
he awakened in the morning he remembered his dream 
and reached his hand for the hammer to make sure it 
was safe. 


WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 33 


Picture his consternation (kon'ster na'shun), when 
he found it gone! “My dream has come true!” he 
cried. “Some one has stolen the hammer!” 

He roused the other gods and when they heard the 
awful news, they all went about with white faces and 
trembling lips, whispering to each other, “Asgard is 
in danger! The Frost Giants have stolen the ham- 
mer!” 

Even Loki was concerned. Bad as he was, he did 
not want the enemy to destroy Asgard, and he offered 
to play detective and go to Jotunheim in search of the 
lost treasure. 

For once the good wishes of the gods followed him 
in his quest. Taking the form of a bird, he flew 
straight to the strange, desolate land of Frost and made 
his way to a hill near the glittering palace of Thrym 
(trim), the chief of the Frost Giants. 

Thrym, shaggy, grim, and terrible, was sitting on 
the hill, and he laughed boisterously and mockingly 
when he saw Loki, for he guessed his errand. Loki 
made short parley and asked at once for the hammer. 

“Find it and you may have it,” said Thrym. 
“Eight fathoms deep it lies buried in the earth, and 
no one but myself can locate it. I will yield the ham- 
mer on condition that the beautiful Freya will come to 
Jotunheim and be my bride.” 

Even Loki laughed at the idea of Freya, who loved 
sunshine and flowers, and birds, and bees, and soft 
winds, leaving all to be bride to a chill Frost Giant. 


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He explained to the giant the impossibility of granting 
his demand, and tried to bring him to other terms. 

The giant was obdurate. “Freya,” he roared. 
“Freya alone will I accept in exchange for the 
hammer.’’ 

Full of dismay, Loki returned to Asgard and 
reported the result of his mission. 

“Freya must go,” said Thor, when he had finished. 
“The hammer must be restored. We must coax her 
to go.” 

So Freya was called before the assembled gods, and 
Thor, craftily, began the siege. “Dear Freya,” he said, 
“Loki brings us good news from Jotunheim.” 

“Indeed,” she replied, “and what may it be?” 

“Why,” returned Thor, “the noble giant, Thrym, 
has sent proposals to you to become his wife. If you 
consent he will restore the hammer.” 

Freya grew ominously haughty. “Then you will 
not get the hammer back,” she snapped, “for I will 
never marry a hideous (hid'e us) Frost Giant — not for 
forty hammers. It makes me shiver just to think of 
him. His awful eye splits the rocks when he looks 
upon them.” 

It made all assembled Asgard shiver, too, to think 
of him, but still they put forth new arguments. 

“Dear Freya, do go,” they entreated, “and we will 
give you the finest of gifts. Come, get ready for the 
festival.” 

Freya stamped her foot. “Festival indeed! I 


WONDER TALES OF THOR, THE THUNDERER 35 

would call it a sacrifice. But it shall not be. I will 
never marry Thrym — never. Marry him yourselves 
if you want to !” 

That ended the matter as far as she was concerned. 
For a time no one could think of a plan, but at last a 
bright idea struck Heimdall (him'dal), the guardian 
of the trembling rainbow bridge. Bifrost. His idea 
was a good one. “Let Thor, disguised as a bride, go 
to Thrym’s palace. Deck him in bridal finery, and 
jewels; fasten on him the jingling keys of a housewife, 
and cover his head with a misty veil so that none may 
see his face. Let him then fare forth to Thrym, but 
also let him insist that the hammer be given to him 
before the wedding. Once it is in his hand, the rest 
will be easy.” 

The gods were all delighted with the plan, and 
Thor, in bridal array, with Loki as serving-maid, got 
into his goat-drawn chariot, and away both were driven 
to Jotunheim, the distant, dark, chaotic land of the 
Frost Giants. 

Word had been sent to Thrym of Freya’s coming, 
and he was waiting in the doorway of his sparkling 
palace when Thor and Loki drove up. 

“Welcome, thrice welcome, fair bride,” he cried. 
“Come at once to the banquet prepared for you.” 

Thor answered not a word, and permitted himself 
and his companion to be led to the table. Thrym 
placed before the supposed bride small and delicate 
dainties. He was quite surprised to see these thrust 


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aside to make way for more substantial things. Such 
an appetite as that bride had ! Two oxen, eight salmon, 
cakes, sweetmeats, and three barrels of mead disap- 
peared in a twinkling. 

“What makes you so ravenous (rav'’nus), fair 
bride?” Thrym cried. 

Loki, fearing Thor might betray himself, 
answered quickly, “No wonder Freya eats. She has 
been so happy and excited over her marriage to you 
that she has eaten nothing for eight days.” 

This pleased Thrym. “I must kiss the fair bride 
for her affection,” he said. But when he leaned toward 
her, he started back, for through the veil Thor’s eyes 
gleamed like fire. 

“How fierce Freya’s eyes have become,” he said to 
Loki. 

“Oh,” said Loki, readily, “that is only the fire of 
love you see in her eyes.” 

Thor could scarcely control himself when he heard 
this. Nothing but the thought of the precious ham- 
mer kept him from pouncing upon Thrym and telling 
the giant how he hated him. Thrym, all unconscious 
of the deceit, and well pleased that his bride so loved 
him, was now easily persuaded by Loki to bring in the 
hammer. “As soon as it is in the bride’s hand,” he 
said, “you shall kiss her lips.” 

Thrym, eager for this reward, placed the hammer 
in the hand of Thor. No sooner did Thor’s fingers 
close over the precious handle than the god sprang up 


WONDER TALES OF THOR. THE THUNDERER 37 

with a terrible cry, rent the veil from his head, and 
hurling the hammer first at Thrym, then at the guests, 
and, lastly at the palace itself, soon had the whole realm 
a mass of ruins. 

The work of destruction and vengeance completed, 
Thor and Loki joyfully leaped into the goat-drawn 



“As soon as the hammer is in the bride’s 
hand,” said Loki, “you shall kiss her lips.” 


chariot, and quickly rode to Asgard, bringing with 
them in triumph the precious hammer. 

The hammer recovered, the gods thought Asgard 
was perfectly safe, but a new danger threatened it. 
The next story will tell of this danger. 





CHAPTER IV 


WONDER TALES OF THE FENRIS WOLF 

That inveterate mischief-maker Loki was the cause 
of more trouble in Asgard. He had wedded a giantess 
in Jotunheim, and their three children were such 
unspeakable monsters that Loki was ashamed of them. 
He tried to hide their existence from the gods, but 
Odin’s all-seeing eye discovered them, and Loki was 
compelled to bring them into Asgard to be tried before 
the tribunal of the gods. 

When the gods saw the creatures they were horri- 
fied, and no wonder! One was Hel, the terrible god- 
dess of death, the second was an indescribable serpent 
called lormungandr (yer'mun gandr) , and the third 
was a wolf named Fenris (fen'ris). Something must 
be done to protect Asgard from such a brood. So it 
38 


WONDER TALES OF THE FENRIS WOLF 


39 


was decided to cast Hel into the depths of Niflheim, the 
chill land of mists, under the far north of the world. 

Circling the land of Hel was a dark river, arched 
over by a bridge of glass, held by a single hair. At the 
entrance of this bridge stood the guardian, a fleshless 
maiden, clad in somber shroud and pall. None but the 
dead might dare attempt the crossing of that bridge. 
Once over the bridge, the spirit passed on to Hel-gate, 
guarded by the fierce dog Garm (garm), who must be 
disarmed by the offering of a Hel-cake. Whilst the 
dog devoured the cake, the spirit passed unmolested 
into the nine dismal worlds of the dead, where, mid 
ice and snow and rolling glaciers, ruled Hel, the pale 
goddess of death. 

The gods decided that the serpent lormungandr 
must be cast into the sea, and this was accordingly done. 
Once there the creature grew with such rapidity that 
he enclosed the world, tail in mouth, circle-wise. The 
evil serpent often made awful disturbances, lashing the 
seas till the waves rolled mountain high. 

Dangerous as were Hel and the great sea-serpent, 
they were less to be feared than the wolf Fenris. It 
was deemed best to keep him in Asgard itself, where 
he could be watched constantly. Fenris was easily 
managed in his youth, but as years passed and he grew 
in size and ferocity, the gods themselves shuddered to 
meet his hungry eyes, and none dared strive to master 
him save Tyr, the sword-god, son of Odin, and one of 
the twelve chief gods of Asgard. 


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Odin himself always wore a shadow upon his face 
when he looked upon Fenris, for it had been whispered 
in his ear that in the awful battle of the Last Great 
Day he himself would be swallowed up by the mighty 
Fenris. 

Fenris roamed unrestricted in Asgard, snapping and 
snarling as he pleased, till at length the gods decided 
it was too dangerous to harbor him longer. Accord- 
ingly the herald trumpet was sounded, and all the gods 
summoned to a special council to decide the fate of 
Fenris. 

^‘Let us kill him,” said some, annoyed to think how 
their daily life had become one of fear because of him. 

“Nay,” said Odin, “let us have no bloodshed in 
Asgard.” 

“Bind him,” suggested Thor. “I, myself, will 
forge a chain so strong that he cannot break it.” 

This suggestion met with general favor. Thor 
hurried away to the smithy to forge the chain. All 
night long he wrought. Asgard rang with his sounding 
anvil! How anxiously the gods awaited the comple- 
tion of the work! 

Evil Fenris knew that Thor was fashioning a chain 
to bind him, but he only laughed, for he knew his own 
strength. But when the chain was made and shown 
to the gods, they all wondered at its strength and they 
called it Leding. 

“Surely,” said Odin, “this will serve to bind Fenris.” 

Fenris, hearing them, laughed wickedly, and read- 


WONDER TALES OF THE FENRIS WOLF 41 

ily consented to be bound. Round and round and 
round him they wound Leding, and the better to 
secure him, Thor riveted the chain to a great rock. 
For a moment all Asgard breathed freely. But only 
for a moment. Almost before they realized it, Fenris 
quietly shook himself, and, stretching his great limbs, 
snapped the mighty chains as easily as if they were but 
twigs. The gods trembled and fear again took posses- 
sion of them. 

Thor, undaunted, went to work at once on another 
and a stronger chain. Three days and three nights 
he wrought it, and finished the strongest chain ever 
made by gods or men. He called it Dromi. When 
the gods saw it, they rejoiced, for they thought it could 
not fail to bind Fenris. 

Fenris only laughed, and again readily consented 
to be bound. No sooner was the chain wound about 
him, and fast riveted to the rock, than he strained his 
mighty limbs and snapped Dromi into tiny pieces. 

Again the gods trembled, and Thor, ashamed of his 
failure, said, “I can do no more. Dromi was my 
best.” 

Then spoke Frey, the gentle one, ‘‘Naught but a 
chain of magic can bind Fenris, and none but the 
dwarfs can make such a chain. Send, therefore, a 
swift messenger to them to bid them haste and forge a 
chain to bind Fenris, ere he destroy Asgard.” 

Thereupon Skirner (sker'ner), the swift messenger, 
was sent to the underworld to consult the creatures. 


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How the little people crowded around him when he 
arrived there — strange, cunning-eyed, misshapen crea- 
tures, with black faces and hair unkempt! Eagerly 
they listened to Skirner’s story, and, flattered that Odin, 
the All-Father, deigned to ask their assistance, they 
promised to make the fetter. 

They went to work with a will and soon the chain 
was forged. Now this chain was seemingly but a slen- 
der thread, for it was woven of impalpable (impal'- 
pab’l) things — the noise of a cat’s footfall, the breath 
of fishes, the roots of stones, and the longings of bears ; 
but, being a magic chain, the more it was strained, the 
stronger it became. 

Skirner, with his trophy, returned to Asgard. 
When Odin saw the chain he knew it would serve. 

But there was trouble with Fenris. When he saw 
the delicate cord he grew suspicious and refused to be 
bound. “Leding and Dromi I broke, for I knew of 
what they were made,” he said. “But this is a chain of 
magic and I will not wear it.” 

The gods scorned him. “So! the fearless Fenris 
fears a cord!” 

The pride of Fenris was touched. He could not 
let the gods deride him. “I will fear the cord no more 
than you need fear me,” he said. “Let us make a bar- 
gain. I will let you bind me with it, if one of you 
will put his hand in my mouth as a pledge that the 
cord is not a magic one.” 

There was a long silence when the gods heard these 


WONDER TALES OF THE FENRIS WOLF 


43 


words. They knew what the sacrifice would be. 
Finally, the courageous Tyr stepped forth, and, thrust- 
ing his hand between the wolf’s horrid jaws, said, 
quietly, “Bind Fenris!” 

So the wolf was bound for the third time, and when 
the work was done, he stretched and strained at his 
bonds, but behold, through the magic in them, they 



Fenris snapped off the hand of Tyr 
right at the wrist. 


but strengthened with his strivings. Finding himself 
thus hopelessly fettered, he claimed his forfeit and 
snapped off the hand of Tyr right at the wrist. This 
joint has since that time been called the wolf’s joint. 
Thus Fenris was bound in bonds that were to last till 


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the Final Day when the gods and the grim Frost Giants 
would meet in deadly conflict. 

For a time after the binding of Fenris things went 
well in Asgard, but there was a day when a new sorrow 
came. This trouble was connected with Balder, the 
Beautiful, the son of Odin and Frigga. 



The death of Balder, the beautiful. 


CHAPTER V 

WONDER TALES OF BALDER, THE BEAUTIFUL 

Balder was the smiling, happy god of light, and 
was loved by all even as light itself is loved. Things 
generally went well with Balder, but there came a 
time when he began to have troubled dreams. Night 
after night a shadow seemed to hang over him, and 
when day dawned he was still haunted by a dim fore- 
boding that a terrible sorrow was about to come to 
Asgard. 


45 


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His bright face grew haggard and pale, and to 
Frigga, his mother, he whispered his fear that he was 
going to die. Frigga, or Frigg, as she was also called, 
was almost beside herself with grief, but she thought 
of a plan to avert the threatened disaster. “Every- 
thing loves Balder,” she said; “nothing would know- 
ingly harm him. I will fare through the world and 
exact a pledge from everything in it not to harm him.” 

So out she went upon her quest; to the mineral 
world and all in it; to the plant world with its flowers, 
and fruits, and grains, and grasses; to the animal world 
of birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fishes. To each 
she put the same question, “You love Balder?” 

The answer was always the same, “Surely we love 
Balder, the Beautiful! Who would not love him? 
Without him there would be neither warmth nor light. 
Yea! we love Balder!” 

Then she continued, “Balder is in danger. Will 
you swear never to harm him?” 

The answer was always the same, “We swear! We 
will never harm Balder.” 

When Frigg had gone all over creation and had 
pledged everything that she thought had power to 
harm, she was happy again. Balder was safe. 

Odin, however, could not rest. He still feared. “I 
will go,” said he, “down to the land of Hel and see if 
it is possible they are expecting Balder there.” 

“There is no need to go,” said Frigg, lightly. 
“Everything promised. Balder is safe.” 


WONDER TALES OF BALDER, THE BEAUTIFUL 47 

But Odin would not be stayed. He saddled his 
eight-footed steed, the fleet Sleipnir (slip'nir), and rode 
straight to Helheim (herhim). In that drear realm 
he found them busy preparing a golden couch and a 
funeral feast for an expected guest. His heart sank 
within him, but he said, “I will find Val (val), the 
prophetess. She will tell me all.” 

Then he stole to the grave of dead Val, and saying a 
rnagic rune over it, roused the sleeper from her long 
slumber. 

The dead prophetess stirred, and from the mold 
and damp came a low, lone cry, “Who cometh to break 
my slumbers?” 

“I,” answered Odin, changing his name. “I, who 
am called Vegtam. I come to learn who is Hel’s 
expected guest?” 

Then Val’s thin, peaked voice cut the air again. 
“It is Balder, the Beautiful. All Helheim rejoices, 
for Hoder (ho'der), the blind one, shall slay his 
brother, and send him to the realm of pale Hel.” 

“Alas!” sighed Odin sadly. “Is there no way to 
save Balder, the bright and the beloved?” 

Hark! like a far echo came the voice of Val, “Yea, 
if all things will weep a tear for Balder, Hel will 
yield him up. If one thing be found that will not 
weep. Balder cannot be saved. Now go, for I am 
weary and you disturb mv dreams; I would fain sleep 
again.” 

“Stay,” said Odin, “but a moment more. Tell me 


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why is it I seem to see one that mocks and refuses for 
Balder a tear?” 

Then was Val angry. ‘^Thou hast lied to me,” 
she said. Thou art not Vegtam, but Odin. None but 
the All-Father could have seen the coming days. Go — 
I sleep again, and no one shall rouse me from my 
dreams till dread Ragnarok (rag'na rek), the Twilight 
of the Gods, is come to Asgard.” So saying, she hid 
herself again in her grave, while Odin sorrowfully 
mounted Sleipnir, and rode back to Asgard. 

Meanwhile, during Odin’s absence, the gods were 
celebrating the safety of Balder with games and festivi- 
ties. In the midst of their fun one of them cried out, 
“Oh, let’s have a new game. Let us play, ‘Try to hurt 
Balder!’ Set Balder up as a target, and throw all sorts 
of things at him. Nothing can hurt him, you know.” 

“Yes, yes,” cried the others, pleased as children 
with a new game, “let us play Try to hurt Balder.” 

So Balder was set as a target and they began to 
throw. But no matter what missile was used, it always 
glanced aside just as it reached him. Even the 
crusher, Thor’s mighty hammer, hurried back to its 
master’s hand when he threw it at the Beautiful One. 

Loki watched the game and his evil heart filled with 
jealousy when he saw how everything loved Balder, 
the Beautiful. Loki had always hated Balder, not 
because the fair god had ever harmed him, but just 
because he was so beloved of every one. 

He turned from the field. “I must find Frigg,” 


WONDER TALES OF BALDER, THE BEAUTIFUL 49 

he thought, “and learn from her how she got everything 
to promise not to hurt Balder.” 

Frigg was sitting in her doorway, spinning, as all 
good goddesses and housewives of those days loved to 
do, when a queer, bent, old woman came and stood 
before her. 

Frigg paused in her spinning and invited the old 
woman to sit down. “They are playing a strange game 
in Asgard,” said the visitor. “They are trying to hurt 
Balder, but nothing harms him.” 

Frigg smiled. “No,” she said proudly, “nothing 
will ever hurt Balder. Everything has promised not 
to harm him.” 

“How wonderful !” ejaculated the other. “Are you 
sure everything promised?” 

“Everything of any consequence,” said Frigg. “I 
missed a bit of mistletoe, but that is such a weak little 
thing it could not hurt Balder, so he is safe.” 

“Yes, yes,” assented the old woman, “Balder is surely 
.safe.” And with that she moved on. 

Blit there was a wicked light in her eyes. No 
sooner was she out of Frigg’s sight than she straightened 
herself, flung off her cloak, and took another shape— 
the shape of Loki! Yes, it was he! 

“Balder is safe, is he?” he muttered, maliciously. 
“Well, we shall seel” So saying, he hurried to the 
spot where the mistletoe grew, and, cutting off a bit of 
it, hid it in his bosom. Then he made his way back to 
Asgard, where the game was still going on. All Asgard 


50 


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rang with the laughter of the merry gods as their mis- 
siles turned aside from their precious target. 

Balder had a brother, born blind, who was called 
Hoder, the god of darkness. He was the only one 
not participating in the play. 

Loki strode up to him. ^‘Why do you not play, too, 
Hoder?” he asked kindly. 

“I cannot see to throw,” said Hoder, “and even if 
I could, I have no weapon.” 

Then Loki offered the mistletoe. “Take this,” he 
said, “and throw it. I will direct your aim for you.” 

Hoder, all unsuspicious, took the fatal sprig, and, 
with the arch-deceiver guiding his aim, threw it 
straight at his beloved brother. 

Instantly the beautiful god fell dead and the decrees 
of fate were fulfilled. A great horror fell upon the 
gods, and they cried each to the other with pallid lips, 
“Balder, the Beautiful! Balder is dead!” 

In their grief they would have torn Hoder to pieces, 
but he explained to them how Loki had deceived him. 
Then they sought Loki, but the evil one had made good 
his escape. 

A messenger hastened to inform Frigg and Odin, 
who had just returned to Asgard, of the sad news. 
Odin, knowing there was nothing to be done, began to 
prepare the funeral honors for his son. 

When all was ready, they carried the body down 
to Balder’s noble ship, Ringhorn, which floated idly 
upon the sea./ On the deck they built a huge funeral 


WONDER TALES OF BALDER, THE BEAUTIFUL 51 

pyre (pir), and placed his body on it. Then they 
slew his horse and his dogs that had stood looking on 
in dumb grief, for they, too, in some strange way, knew 
that Balder was dead. The bodies of the horse and 
the dogs were also placed upon the pyre with their 
master. 

The gods then passed in mournful farewell review 
before the pyre, each placing a gift upon it. When 
it came the turn of Nanna (nan'na) , Balder’s fair wife, 
her heart broke in her bosom, and she fell dead before 
the pyre. 

Tenderly lifting her, Odin said, “It is well they 
should not be divided in their death. Place her upon 
the pyre.” 

Then Odin himself placed his sacred ring, 
Draupnir (droup'nir), the pledge of earth’s fertility, 
upon the pyre, as his own last offering to his beloved 
son. “Fire the pile,” he said, “and send the ship to 
sea.” 

So heavy was the ship with the weight of their woe 
that the united strength of the gods could not move it, 
and they had to send to Jotunheim for a powerful 
giantess to come to their aid. With one push of her 
great shoulders she sent the ship, Ringhorn, off to sea, 
a blazing glory. 

The sorrowing gods stood upon the shore watching 
the flames rise higher and higher, till the pyre was com- 
pletely consumed. Then the lurid glow died out of 
the heavens, and the blackened hull of the ship gave 


52 


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a great lurch and rolled over. The sea parted, the 
waves closed over the wreck, and there was naught to 
be seen but the darkening sky above and the calm sea 
beneath. Balder, the Beautiful, was gone! 

Frigg could not be convinced that B alder’s return 
was impossible. “Hel will give him back for a rich 
reward, I am sure,” she said. So she sent another son, 
Hermod (her'mod), down to the depths of the nine 
worlds of Hel to see if, perchance, the grim goddess 
of death would yield him up. 

Hermod obediently went but the only answer he 
gained was the one that Val, the dead prophetess, 
had given to Odin, “If all things weep for Balder, he 
may return.” 

When Hermod delivered the message, Frigg felt a 
great hope arise in her heart. Everything loved Bal- 
der. Surely everything would weep for him. “I will 
at once fare through the world and beseech tears for 
Balder,” she said. 

Through the kingdoms of nature she went again, 
and everything promised a tear, till she came to a cer- 
tain cave where an evil crone sat in darkness and 
silence. 

When Frigg asked, “Will you weep for Balder?” 
the crone only gave a mocking laugh. “Why should 
I weep for Balder? What good has he ever done me 
here in my dark and my cold? Nay, never will Thok 
weep a tear for Balder.” And she leaped far into the 
darkness of her cave and was lost to sight. Frigg 


WONDER TALES OF BALDER^ THE BEAUTIFUL 53 

Started in sore amazement, for she recognized the voice. 
It was the voice of Loki! 

Sadly she returned to Asgard, knowing her quest 
had been useless, and that Balder, the Beautiful, would 
return no more. 

After the death of Balder, Loki made himself so 
disagreeable to the gods that they finally banished him 
from Asgard. But it did not seem right to let him 
escape with only that punishment, and besides, they 
could not feel safe with him at large, not knowing what 
evil he might plot against them. “We must capture 
him,” they decided, “and confine him securely.” 

Loki knew they were searching for him; so he 
changed himself, as he often did, into a salmon, and 
hid in the stream. But the eye of Odin saw him, and 
the hand of Thor caught him. Together they com- 
pelled him to assume his own shape again. 

There was a great cavern nearby. Dragging him 
to it, they chained him to the rocks. Over his head 
they set a terrible serpent that continually dropped a 
burning venom (ven'um) upon his upturned face. 

Now, Loki, wicked as he was, had lately married 
a good and beautiful wife, who loved him in spite of 
his wickedness. Hoping to shield him from the cor- 
roding poison, she stationed herself at his side, and 
held between him and the serpent a cup in which to 
catch the venom as it dropped. Whenever the cup 
filled, and she turned it aside to empty it, a few drops 
fell upon his face and thereat he writhed so terribly 

5 


* 





The terrible punishment of Loki, 


54 


» 

t 














WONDER TALES OF BALDER, THE BEAUTIFUL 


55 


in his agony that the very earth trembled and was rent 
asunder in places. 

So Loki was bound and so he lay in chains till 
Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods, came. 



The twilight of the gods. 


CHAPTER VI 

WONDER TALES OF THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 

After the death of Balder, the gods were never 
glad again. Of them all, Odin was the most troubled. 
He knew that the last great day when Asgard would be 
no more was speeding on. 

The seasons came and went for a time as they had 
always done, but gradually there was a change. The 
winters grew longer and colder, the summers shorter, 
and the light became pale and misty. 

At last came a time when the summers were no 
more, and a long, endless winter set in. From north, 
south, east, and west, at once, great feathery flakes of 
snow fell, piling themselves one upon another into gro- 

56 


WONDER TALES OF THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 57 


tesque (gr5 tesk') heaps, till the world looked like a 
pallid pall. The rushing winds of wintry tempests, 
sang with a Berserker (ber'serker) rage, and cut like- 
two-edged swords. 

Men in Midgard looked upon one another in sore 
dismay, and the gods shook and trembled in the shining 
city of Asgard. Only Odin, the All-wise, knew that 
this was the awful Fimbul-Winter, the fore-runner of 
the worse Ragnarok. 

For three years the miserable melancholy winter 
reigned, and day by day the sun grew paler and colder. 
At length came a dreadful day when it was no more, for 
as it struggled weakly to shine in its accustomed place, 
there suddenly sprang at it, as from the blackness of a 
great gulf, a wolf of enormous size that chased after 
it, and caught it, and swallowed it with one mighty 
gulp. So was the sun gone. 

Then rose the pallid moon, a mere ghost of herself, 
and behold! with a long, echoing howl, another wolf, 
leaping from the gulf, devoured her. The stars shot 
madly from their spheres (sferz), and desolation 
reigned. Men wept, and the gods trembled. 

In Jotunheim the Frost Giants rejoiced, and Fenris 
and Loki strove mightily with their bonds, and burst 
them asunder. Ygdrasil, the earth tree, the great ash, 
the tree of life and time, whose roots branched into 
Nifleheim, Midgard, and Asgard, rotted to its roots 
and fell. And Hel, with her pale hosts, came crowding 
to the scene. 


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Odin knew that the fateful hour of conflict had 
come. “Stand upon the bridge, Bifrost,” said he, to 
Heimdall, “blow a mighty blast upon your horn, and 
call the gods to the last battle.” 

Heimdall took his horn, and blew upon it a blast 
so long and loud that all the gods heard it, and said one 
to another, “Is this the Day — the last great Day?” 

Even as they spoke Heimdall blew another blast, 
and looking they saw the hosts of Hel, the Frost Giants, 
Loki, and the fierce Fenris crowding the trembling 
rainbow bridge. Bifrost, seeking passage to Asgard. 
So they hurried to the field to front the foe. 

Oh, what a battle that was! Odin rushed upon the 
wolf, but Fenris opened his horrid jaws and devoured 
him. Thor sprang upon the Midgard Serpent, and 
split it in two, but the venom that flowed from the 
wound surged over the slayer and destroyed him. How 
Tyr fought! But he had only one arm and was soon 
overthrown. Gods, giants, and monsters fought to the 
death. 

When the battle was at its height one came from 
the Firelands and flung blazing brands everywhere! 
Flames, flames, flames, until at last the universe was 
consumed. 

Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods, had come. 



The Romans invade Teutonic territory. 


CHAPTER VII 

ROMAN AND TEUTON 

It is only when the primitive Teutons come in con- 
tact with the Romans that their annals become history. 

The Rhine and the Danube rivers seemed to form 
a natural boundary for the Roman Empire. At one 
time these two waterways were a rim between two 
worlds, one might say, so great was the difference 
between the dwellers on either side of them: the bar- 
barian Teuton to the north; to the south, the cultured 
Roman. 

One of the earliest experiences of the Romans with 
the German tribes was during the time of Julius Caesar, 
about fifty years before Christ. 


59 


6o 


WESTERN EUROPE 


I Rome, then at the zenith (ze'nith) of her power, 
?had conquered much of the world. Caesar, the great- 
^est of her generals, was in Gaul, completing the subju- 
gation of that territory. The Germans, pressing over 
into Gaul, gave Caesar trouble; so he informed his 
men of his determination to suppress these barbarians. 
They did not take kindly to the thought of fighting 
the Teutons, for they had heard great tales of the 
prowess of the barbarians, and it had been whispered, 
too, that they were not ordinary men, but a race of 
giants. 

The Roman heart that had never known fear trem- 
bled at the thought of the Teuton. However, in spite 
of their fears, Caesar finally induced his men to fall 
into line, and follow him into the forests to meet the foe. 

The barbarians were brave, and in the conflict that 
ensued fought well, but bulk, bravery, and reckless- 
ness could not avail against skill and discipline. The 
Roman came off victor. 

Caesar admired the strength and bravery of the 
Teutons, and invited some of them to join his army. 
Tales of the wonders of the mistress of the world had 
reached the ears of the barbarians, and some of them, 
eager to penetrate to the enchanted region, entered the 
Roman service. Little did the great general dream 
that centuries later the descendants of these same half- 
wild men would roll like a deluge (del'uj) over the 
Roman Empire and sweep it to destruction. 

From the time of Caesar on, Rome gradually 



A Gaul. 


I 


6i 





62 


WESTERN EUROPE 


enlisted in her service her future conquerors, and in 
her service the Teuton learned the lessons that fitted 
him for the mastery — the lessons of Roman skill, and 
training, and methods of warfare. 

In the early days of the Roman Empire it became 
apparent to the ruling faction that the tribes beyond 
the Danube needed watching. When Augustus was the 
reigning Caesar, he had some hopes of making Ger- 
mania a Roman province, and he sent a general named 
Varus (va'rus) into the forests to take command. But 
the Roman dominion was not to spread into the North- 
land. 

Among the Germans there rose a hero called Her- 
mann by his own people, and Arminius (armin'! us) 
by the Romans. This man was a patriot, full of the 
true Teutonic love of liberty. The Roman yoke 
oppressed him, and he determined to cast it from him- 
- self and his people. His first move was to unite the 
tribes into one strong band. Arminius became the 
guiding star of Teutonic destiny. Nightly meetings 
were held in the grim forest depths, and a plan was 
formed to free the German from the Roman fetters. 

According to plan. Varus was notified that a certain 
tribe, dwelling in the Teutoberg (tu to berg) Forest 
near the Weser (vVzer) river, had revolted from 
Roman rule. It was the business of Varus to crush 
such rebellions, and he at once set forth with his legions 
for the scene. 

Being ignorant of the road to the. forest. Varus 


ROMAN AND TEUTON 


63 


unsuspectingly accepted the guidance of certain Ger- 
mans whom he thought to be loyal, but who were really 
devoted to Arminius. These men led the Romans to 
the great Teutoberg wild, where for three days the 
legions, entrapped, toiled on, distracted by darts from 
ambushed foes, till they reached a clearing in the heart 
of the forest. 

Here to their dismay they found a host of the bar- 
barians drawn up in battle array. It was a fierce fight 
that followed. The Romans fought for their lives; the 
Germans for mor^ than their lives — the ultimate lib- 
erty of their race. Victory perched on the German 
banner. The barbarians seemed inspired with the 
Berserker rage of Odin himself, and performed 
miracles of valor and strength. 

Varus, seeing the utter defeat of his army, flung 
himself upon his own sword and perished there in the 
German forest. His survivors met a worse fate, for 
they were sacrificed on a high altar amid acclamations 
and wild songs to Thor, the wrathful god of the Red 
Beard. 

This battle was fraught with much meaning for the 
world. Had the result been different, Roman ideals 
might have been more in evidence in the world to-day 
than Teutonic ones. 

When word reached Caesar Augustus in his palace 
at Rome, of the slaughter of his noble legions in the 
Teutoberg wild, he made a great mourning. He let 
his hair and beard grow unkempt, beat his head against 


64 


WESTERN EUROPE 


the walls and wailed, ^‘Oh, Varus! Varus! give me back 
my legions!” But Varus heard him not. 

For many years the anniversary of the battle of 
Teutoberg Forest was a day of public mourning in 
Rome. 

Five years later a Roman officer, Germanicus (jer- 
man'ikus), visited the scene of the great battle, and 
finding the bleaching bones of his unburied country- 
men, gathered them into a pile, and burned them on a 
great funeral pyre. 

From the time of this great battle, 9 A. D., till the 
fourth century, there was constant skirmishing (sker'- 
mish ing) between the Romans and Teutons along the 
lines of the Rhine and Danube, but no decisive move 
was made by either side. 

In the progress of time great changes took place 
among the Teutons. The tribes united for better 
defense into great bands, and became firmly established 
in their several locations. The Saxons along the low- 
lands of the northwest, the Franks on the Rhine, the 
Lombards north of Italy, and the Vandals and Goths 
on the Danube were among the chief tribes. 

Little by little, from many sources, the forest chil- 
dren learned so much of the great city of Rome, almost 
incredible tales of its splendors, that it became to them 
as a lodestone whose attraction they could not resist. 

Another change had come, too. Rome herself had 
become Christianized, and the new faith was carried by 
missionaries to the forest children. Many of them 


ROMAN AND TEUTON 


65 


had accepted it, — not all, — yet enough to make it 
apparent that the twilight of the gods of Asgard was 
at hand. The first great missionary among the Teu- 
tons was a West Goth named Ulfilas (ul'filas), who 
translated the Bible into the Gothic language. 

In the fourth and fifth centuries Teutonic bands, 
organized and invincible, became aggressive. Filled 
with the spirit of wanderlust and dreaming of conquest, 
they moved against the Empire in every direction. 
The Romans called the movements “Invasions of the 
Barbarians.” The Barbarians themselves gave their 
travels the more dignified name of “Migrations of the 
People.” 

By the close of the fifth century the proud Roman 
Empire, that had once embraced all the civilized world, 
was a mere ghost of itself. What had happened? 
Spain was in the hands of the Goths — that was one 
slice out. Northern Africa was a Vandal possession. 
Northern Italy fell to the Lombards, and the ruler at 
Rome was a Teuton. At the same time the Saxons 
were moving westward to Great Britain, and the 
Franks, with whom we shall now be most concerned, 
were going westward into Gaul. Thus the proud 
Roman Empire was split up, and transformed into 
separate Teutonic kingdoms. 

We followed the rise of the great Greek Empire, 
with all its splendor, and saw its fall. We saw the 
same rise and fall in the mighty Roman Empire. Now 
we are going to see a great Teutonic Empire rise in 


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Western Europe, hold its power till the death of its 
chief genius, Charlemagne (shar'le man) , and then go 
the way of all world empires. To build up this single 
empire, one of the Teutonic bands had to become 
supreme and conquer all the others. The Franks 
accomplished this feat. 

The Frankish Empire is the last of the great world 
empires. Since the time of Charlemagne, who brought 
this about, but one other man has attempted to build 
up a world empire. This man was Napoleon Bona- 
parte, the ambitious Corsican (kor'sikan). After the 
combined armies of Europe rose to defeat him, exile 
on St. Helena put an end to his great dreams. The 
dissolution (dis'so lu'shun) of all great world empires 
shows conclusively the fleeting nature of all mere 
worldly power. 

The Franks, or Freemen as the name signifies, were 
the most important of all the Teutonic tribes. Their 
original home was along the lower courses of the Rhine 
River. The first king of importance among them was 
Clovis (klo'vis), who reigned about 480 A. D. 

Clovis was proud of his Franks, great blonde giants 
that they were, with their long mustaches, and long 
hair braided into two plaits that reached to the waist. 
These plaits were the greatest pride of the Franks, and 
it was considered a great disaster to lose them, for they 
signified that their wearer was a Freeman. 

In 486, Clovis and his long-haired Franks marched 
into Gaul, and met the -Romans, who still held that 


ROMAN AND TEUTON 


67 


part of their realm, and utterly defeated them in the 
battle of Soissons (swason'). Of course, there was 
much plunder taken by the Franks in the lands of their 
conquests, and the churches did not escape in the 
pillage, for Christianity had not yet made its way to 
any extent among these people. Though Clovis was a 
heathen, he had married a beautiful Christian princess, 
Clotilda (klotil'da). 

From one church many valuable vessels of gold 
and silver were taken, and among the spoils was a beau- 
tiful vase, valued chiefly as a sacred vessel used in 
divine service. The bishop of the church asked that 
this one vase be restored — all else would be resigned 
without question. Booty taken by Teutonic soldiers 
was generally divided by lot among them, the king 
receiving no more than the others. This being the 
law, Clovis could not restore the vase without the con- 
sent of the men. “But,” said he to the bishop, “I will 
try to get it for you.” 

When the division of the spoils was about to be 
made, Clovis addressed his men. “I have one request 
to make,” he said. “I beg that I may have, over and 
above my share, that one vase,” indicating the coveted 
treasure. 

He did not explain why he wished it. This was 
an unusual request, but the soldiers readily agreed to 
grant it, with the exception of one surly fellow, who 
cried out, rudely, “Nay! you shall not have it. Why 
should the king have more than his share? The king 


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is no better than the rest of us. Rather than that he 
should have it, I will do thus with it,” and he shattered 
the priceless vase into fragments with his battle-axe. 

Now, according to the law of the Franks, the man 
was in the right. The king could claim only a share 
of the fragments and no more. But according to the 
laws of courtesy and good fellowship, he was all wrong. 

All the men were startled at his rude speech and 
action, and none more so than the king. He said noth- 
ing, however, but in his heart he registered a vow to 
remember and repay. 

It was the custom of the king to examine, occa- 
sionally, the arms of the soldiers, to see if they were 
properly cared for, and it was his privilege to punish 
neglect by any means he chose — even death. 

Not long after the vase affair, Clovis ordered an 
inspection of arms. When it came the turn of the 
fellow who had smashed the vase to present his arms, 
the king closely inspected his battle-axe, and found a 
nick in it. 

He angrily tossed it to the ground. ^Wou are a 
disgrace to the Frankish army,” he cried, “to keep your 
arms in such a state.” 

The crest-fallen fellow stooped for the weapon, and 
as he did so, the king drew his own axe and smote him 
to death, “Thus didst thou to the vase at Soissons!” he 
said. In this way the king repaid. According to the 
law of the Franks, he was in the right, but according 
to the law of God, he was wrong. 



6 


69 







70 


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Clotilda could not persuade Clovis to desert his 
heathen gods. However, an event finally occurred 
which induced him to accept her faith. During a 
certain battle with some rebellious tribes, Clovis was 
hard pressed and in danger of defeat. He prayed to 
his own gods fervently for aid, but alas ! Odin and Thor 
heard him not. 

In this extremity he thought of Clotilda’s God. 
“I’ll try Him,” he said. “If He hears and helps, I 
will be baptized and become a Christian.” Scarcely 
had he prayed and made the promise when the tide of 
battle turned and victory was his. 

True to his vow, Clovis proclaimed himself a Chris- 
tian. At the ceremony of his baptism, which took place 
in the cathedral of Rheims (remz), there was a great 
concourse of people present. Clovis, clad in a long 
white robe, and attended by three thousand of his fol- 
lowers, who were to be baptized with him, stood before 
the archbishop, St. Remi (re'mi), and heard him pro- 
nounce the solemn words, “Oh, king! burn what thou 
hast adored, and adore what thou hast burned.” Clovis 
burned the images of heathen gods and adored the 
Christ whose churches he had burned. 

Upon the occasion of his baptism two miracles 
occurred. The cruse of oil needed for the anointing 
of the king was brought to the service by a heavenly 
dove. 

Heretofore, the banner of Clovis, under which he 
fought, and the shield which he carried, had borne a 


ROMAN AND TEUTON 


71 


device of three black toads. During the baptismal 
service, Clotilda, in a heavenly vision, received a mes- 
sage in which she was told to substitute the fleur de lys 
(fler'de le) for the frogs on the banner. This flower, 
the emblem of purity, has ever since been the emblem 
of France. 

The conversion of Clovis was an important event, 
for it meant the ultimate Christianizing of the entire 
Frankish nation, and hence of all Western Europe. 

Clovis died and for about two hundred years the 
power of the succeeding kings declined gradually, until 
the officer known as the Mayor of the Palace became 
the real ruler of the nation. The kings allowed the 
mayors to do a sovereign’s work, and hence the kings 
gradually forfeited their authority. 

The Frankish kings, because of the disuse of their 
own authority, became of so little consequence that they 
were known as the Do-Nothing Kings. They were 
really subjects of the Mayors of the Palace, who exer- 
cised the rights of the sovereign. 

To be sure, the Do-Nothing, with his long hair and 
beard, still pretended he was ruler, but he was really 
only a puppet. There was little enough that was royal 
in his life. His home and income were dictated by 
the Mayor of the Palace. His royal coach was an 
ox-cart, and his coachman was the village cow herd. 
Meanwhile, the mayor lived in royal splendor in the 
palace. 

The most famous of these mayorsi was Charles, 


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known as Martel (mar tel'), or the Hammer, who 
reigned while Europe was threatened with an army 
of fanatics (fanat'iks), determined to spread a new 
religion over the world. These fanatics were Moham- 
medans (mo ham'ed anz), and they were completely 
routed by Charles in the great battle of Tours (toor) in 
732 A. D. Let us learn something of these people and 
their faith. 



The interior of a mosque. 


CHAPTER VIII 

SARACEN AND TEUTON 

It is generally conceded that the two most impor- 
tant events in the world’s history are the birth of Christ, 
with its consequent Christian dominion, and the migra- 
tions of the Teutons, resulting in the overthrow of 
Roman power. These two, the Christian faith and 
the Teutonic supremacy, were threatened with anni- 
hilation in the eighth century during the Mohammedan 
invasion of Western Europe. 

At that time the Frankish nation was the ruling 
power of Europe, and Charles, who held the office of 
Mayor of the Palace, was the foremost figure in the 
Christian world. The Mohammedans, in their career 
of conquest, had crossed the Pyrenees (pir'enez) 
73 



74 


Charles Martel smiting the heathens at the battle of Tours. 








SARACEN AND TEUTON 


75 


Mountains, and were advancing into Gaul, or France, 
as it was beginning to be called, in honor of the Franks. 
Charles, alarmed at the threatening danger, summoned 
Western Europe to defend the Christian faith. 

A great army responded, and in 732 A. D. at Tours, 
in western France, the battle was fought which pre- 
served Europe in Christianity. During the fight 
Charles sat on his warhorse, and so pounded the 
heathens with his great battle-axe that one of his men 
said, “See, how Charles hammers the heathens!” From 
that time the warrior was called Charles, the Hammer, 
or Martel. 

The religion, thus checked in its advance, originated 
in southern Arabia, called Arabia the Happy. The 
people of that country were Caucasians (kgka'shans) 
of Semitic origin, tracing their descent to Abraham. 
They were known as Saracens (sar'asenz), a name 
meaning Rising Sun, or East, In Spain we call them 
Moors, which means dark. 

The original religion of the Saracens was a base 
idolatry, their chief idol being a black stone,' which 
was probably a meteorite. This stone was kept, with 
three hundred and sixty inferior idols representing the 
days of the year (as the year was then reckoned), in 
the Caaba (ka'ba), the cube-shaped temple of Mecca 
(mek'ka). In this temple, there was also a sacred 
well, called the Well of Zemzem (zem'zem), at which 
Hagar (ha'gar) and her son Ishmael (ish'ma el), who 
were driven from Abraham’s tent, refreshed themselves. 


76 


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During the year 570 of the Christian era, in the 
city of Mecca, which afterward became a holy city 
because of the event, there was born a child to whom 
was given the name of Mohammed, the Praised One. 

Tradition says that on the night Mohammed was 
.born there appeared in the heavens a crescent moon 
led by a great pilot star. These heavenly forms 
became in later years the device of the Mohammedans, 
and are to-day the emblem of Turkey. 

According to Moslem (moz'lem) accounts, miracles 
were not lacking at the nativity of the Praised One. 
We are told that on his birthnight a strange light illu- 
minated all parts of Syria, and an earthquake threw 
down the towers of the Persian palaces. These events 
were symbolic of the future conquering march of the 
Mohammedan faith. The wonderful child is supposed 
to have spoken, too, immediately after his birth, saying: 
^‘God is great. I am his Prophet!” 

It is also told in Moslem chronicles that when he 
was twelve years of age and was on a certain journey, 
all the leafless trees along the road burst into luxuriant 
verdure to shield him from the torrid rays of the sun. 

The truth is we have little reliable knowledge of 
his childhood or youth, and we only begin to get 
authentic glimpses of him when he was about twenty- 
five years of age. 

At that time he was serving as a camel-driver for 
a rich and beautiful widow named Kadijah (ka de'ja). 
Mohammed was a remarkably handsome man with a 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


77 


winning personality and courtly manners. He was a 
good camel-driver, too, and the lady Kadijah, thinking 
that a good driver would doubtless make a good hus- 
band, married him. Despite the fact that she was 
fifteen years his senior, the marriage was an ideally 
happy one. 

Through his wealthy marriage, which freed him 
from the necessity of following a regular occupation, 
Mohammed had much leisure to indulge in meditation 
on religious subjects. He investigated the religions 
of his times, and determined to draw up one of his own. 
His favorite haunt was a cave in the vicinity of his own 
home. In the privacy of this retreat he planned the 
faith that is to-day the religion of a vast multitude. 

To stamp his teachings with a divine origin, he 
claimed that they were revealed to him by the angel 
Gabriel, who appeared to him in a vision of such 
ineffable light that, blinded by the glory, he became 
unconscious. Thereupon his celestial visitant assumed 
a human form, revived him, and revealed to him the 
will of God. 

When he had his creed arranged, Mohammed 
taught it to his wife and induced her to accept it. She 
was his first convert, but he soon got others, when he 
began to preach his gospel openly. 

His task was not an easy one, for many ridiculed 
him, and others, loyal to the idols of the Caaba, called 
him impolite names, such as sorcerer, magician, fraud, 
and impostor. In spite of opposition and derision, he 


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persisted in his teachings, and slowly but surely added 
to his train of followers. 

He did not explain his entire doctrine at once, but 
gave it out piecemeal, or by “distinct parcels,” as he 
says. Writing material was scarce, and his sacred say- 
ings were written by his disciples upon sheep bones and 
palm leaves. After his death these sayings were col- 
lected into a book which is called the Alcoran (al- 
kor'an), or Koran (ko'ran). It is the Bible of the 
Mohammedans. The name Koran means the Book, or 
the Reading, This earthly volume is supposed by 
Mohammedans to be a copy of a celestial volume which 
was covered with purple silk and set in jewels. The 
Prophet is said to have seen this in heaven on the occa- 
sion of a visit he made to that realm. 

According to his own story, Mohammed was 
escorted to heaven, on the visit, by the angel Gabriel. 
It is a long flight from earth to heaven, but the angel 
had no difficulty in making the journey, as he was fur- 
nished with three hundred pairs of wings. The 
prophet, being minus wings, was carried to the celestial 
regions on a white horse which was provided for him. 
This horse was a wonderful creature, with the wings 
of an eagle, the feet of a dromedary, a body of dia- 
monds which shone as the sun, and the head of a fair 
maiden. On his forehead gleamed this inscription, 
“There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his 
Prophet!” 

Mohammed taught that there were seven heavens, 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


79 


which were doubtless the seven planets that circled the 
sun. He minutely described the glories of the seven 
heavens, the walls of which he found covered with the 
same inscription that was on the horse’s brow, “There is 
no God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet!” 

He met many of the ancient worthies in the various 
heavens. In the first, which was of silver, he found 
Adam, the father of the race, and doubtless questioned 
him concerning the Garden of Eden. In the second, 
which was of gold, he found Noah, who probably told 
him his experiences as he floated in the ark above the 
great flood. The third heaven was of precious stones 
and in this he met Abraham and perhaps discoursed 
with him of his journey from Chaldea (kal de'a) to 
Canaan (ka'nan). In the fourth heaven, which was 
made of emeralds, he talked with Joseph about Egyp- 
tian affairs, possibly. The fifth heaven was of adamant, 
a very hard stone. In this Moses reigned as chief 
spirit. In the glorious sixth celestial sphere, which 
was of great ruby-hued carbuncles, John the Baptist 
dwelt, and in the seventh, which was of Divine Light, 
he found the Savior of the Christians, Jesus Christ. 

All of these saints and prophets recognized the visi- 
tor as the chosen of God, for they all saluted him, 
crying, “There is but one God, and Mohammed is his 
Prophet!” 

In one of the heavens he met a remarkable angel, 
having seventy thousand heads, each head having sev- 
enty thousand tongues, and each tongue seventy thou- 


8o 


WESTERN EUROPE 


sand voices, all chorusing together, “There is but one 
God, and Mohammed is his Prophet!’’ 

Seven was a favorite number in heaven evidently, 
for the visitor found that to penetrate to the Throne of 
God he had to pass through seventy thousand mists of 
fire, only to find the face of the Creator hidden in sev- 
enty thousand veils. However, though he did not see 
the face of God he felt the Divine Hand. He describes 
the touch in these words, “A shiver thrilled my heart 
as I felt upon my shoulder the cold hand of God.” 

Mohammed was much given to fasting and solitary 
meditation. People who do these things to excess often 
have strange fancies, so perhaps the Prophet really had 
the visions he relates. On the other hand, he may have 
deliberately invented them for the purpose of impress- 
ing his ignorant disciples with the divinity of his 
mission. 

As he persisted in his preachings, his followers 
became so many that his opponents, who plotted to 
destroy him, were alarmed. Discovering his danger, 
he fled from Mecca to Medina (ma de'na). This flight 
is called the Hegira (he ji'ra) . It took place 622 A. D. 
and Mohammedans reckon time from it as we do from 
the birth of Christ. 

On the way to Medina, finding himself closely pur- 
sued, Mohammed hid in a cave. The angel Gabriel, 
in the form of a spider, appeared there, and wove a 
web across the mouth of the cave. 

Clatter, clatter, the pursuers came riding up. They 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


8i 


saw the cave and one said, “Doubtless the impostor is 
hidden here. Let us search the cave.” 

“Fool,” said another, “why waste time? Do you 
not see the web? He cannot be in there; he would 
have broken the web in entering.” 

This argument was convincing, so the company 
moved on without examining the cave. Thus the 
Prophet was saved and proceeded to Medina, where he 
soon gathered an immense army that became blindly 
devoted to him. With these as followers, he began to 
spread his gospel by force of arms, and he soon discov- 
ered how the sword convinces 1 

It was a wonderful religious empire he dominated, 
and all over it mosques (mosk), as the Mohammedan 
temples were called, sprang up. Mosque comes from 
an Arabian word which means to bend, or to adore, and 
a mosque was a sanctuary in which the worshipers bent 
and adored. 

The most distinguishing feature about a mosque 
was its tower known as the minaret, from the balcony 
of which five times a day the muezzin (muez'zin), 
the crier of the temple, called aloud, “The hour for 
prayer!” Then every good Mohammedan, wherever 
he was, knelt and adored with his face toward Mecca, 
the Holy City. So do the Mohammedans to-day. 

The Caaba of Mecca, which had once been a tem- 
ple of idolatry, where the Black Stone was worshiped, 
was made into a mosque and became the chief sanctuary 
of the Mohammedan world. 


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The mosques were substantially built and splen- 
didly ornamented. The doors and tables were inlaid 
with mother-of-pearl, ivory, and ebony in beautiful pat- 
terns. There was no imagery permitted, however, for 
the Koran absolutely forbade the representation of the 
human figure, as approaching idolatry. Saracenic 
(sar a sen'ik), or Moorish, art as it was called, was 
limited to architecture and conventional ornamental 
designs. The most noted of these designs is the fan- 
tastic figure called the Arabesque (ar'abesk'), a name 
derived from the word Arab. 

After some years of conquest, the Prophet died, and 
as there could be but one Prophet, his successors were 
called caliphs (ka'lifs). The word caliph means 
or representative, and the caliph in his office merely 
represented the Prophet. 

The caliphs, upon taking charge, determined to 
carry the conquests of their faith still farther, and 
reached out for other countries. Syria was their first 
goal. Jerusalem was besieged and compelled to sur- 
render to the caliph, Omar (o'mar), who journeyed 
from Medina to the captured city for the purpose of 
preventing, by his presence, any slaughter of the inhab- 
itants. 

The caliph made the journey in a very simple style. 
He rode on a red camel and carried with him a bag of 
corn, a bag of dates, and a leathern bottle of water. 
On arriving at Jerusalem he was met at the gates by 
the Christian governor, and the two, side by side, rode 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


83 


into the city, and the transfer from Christian to Moham- 
medan rule was accomplished without the horrors of 
massacres that usually occur upon such occasions. 

To celebrate the Mohammedan victory, the caliph 
ordered a mosque to be erected on the site of the temple 
of Solomon. This temple, the Mosque of Omar, still 
stands in Jerusalem. 



The Mosque of Omar at Jerusalem. 


The fall of Jerusalem, sanctified by many sacred 
traditions, was a terrible blow to the Christian world. 
It still remains lost to that world, for to-day, after more 
than a thousand years, the banner of the star and the 



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crescent floats insolently above it. After Syria came 
the fall of Persia, and thus were verified the prophetic 
symbols at the birth of the Prophet. 

The conquerors next marched on to Egypt, the land 
of mystery and marvel, and besieged Alexandria, which 
was really a Greek city at that time. Corrupt, but splen- 
did with its four thousand magnificent palaces, four 
hundred baths, and countless other great buildings, the 
city, after fourteen months’ resistance, fell before the 
conquering swords of the infidels. 

On capturing the city the caliph ordered the 
destruction of the great library, which had been reas- 
sembled since its partial destruction by fire during Cae- 
sar’s Egyptian campaign. There were probably seven 
hundred thousand priceless volumes in it. Moham- 
med had taught his followers that no book but the 
Koran was necessary for their intellectual or spiritual 
needs. It contained the sum total of all morals and 
wisdom. His fanatic followers, believing this, 
destroyed all other literature wherever they went. 

In Alexandria, at the time of the fall of the city, 
there was living a student named John the Labor Lover. 
This John somehow became acquainted with a Saracen 
general named Amrou (am'roo) and entreated him to 
spare the books of the library. 

Amrou was inclined to favor the appeal, but he 
dared not without the consent of the caliph. 

Said the caliph, “Do the books agree with the 
Koran?” 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


85 


‘^Some do and some do not,” was the reply. 

^‘Those that agree,” said the conqueror, “you do not 
need, for all that is in them is in the Koran. Those 
that do not agree are worthless, and so all shall be 
destroyed.” Accordingly, the precious tomes were 
distributed to be burned in the furnaces that heated 
the baths of the city ; and it is said that it took six months 
to complete their destruction. So perished the second 
great Alexandrian library. 

The possession of Egypt did not content the caliphs, 
for they aimed at taking all northern Africa. Some 
years after the fall of Alexandria, another caliph forced 
his way from the Nile to the Atlantic coast. Barred 
by the sea in his march, he spurred his horse into the 
waters, exclaiming, “Nothing but the ocean stops my 
march to spread the gospel of God and his Prophet, 
Mohammed.” 

From northern Africa over the straits of Gibraltar 
(ji bral'tar), they pressed into Spain, and there they 
overthrew the Goths, who had settled in that region in 
the days of Alaric (al'arik). Then they established 
the Moorish kingdom of Spain, and built the famous 
Alhambra (al ham'bra), the Red Palace, full of splen- 
did Moorish ornamentation. 

The conquering caliph of this invasion vowed to 
penetrate to Rome itself and preach his gospel from 
the Vatican (vat'i kan) . They meant to belt the world, 
these turbaned terrors of the desert, and marching over 
the Pyrenees, attacked southern Gaul. Far to the 





86 


The interior of the Alhambra in Spain, full of splendid Moorish ornamentation. 










SARAGEN AND TEUTON 


87 


east, about the same time, another Mohammedan band 
was casting covetous eyes at Constantinople. Europe 
was in danger. As one writer picturesquely puts it: 
“The lurid phantom of the Arabian crescent reared its 
threatening horns to Europe — one horn at the Bos- 
phorus (bos'fo rus), the other at the Pyrenees.” 

Then it was that western Europe was roused, and 
the Frankish people, under Charles Martel, marched 
against them, and at Tours, in 732, Christianity and 
Mohammedanism met in deadly duel. The Christian 
warriors seemed to realize that this was the gravest 
crisis that had ever confronted the Christian faith. 
They realized that they must conquer or yield the cross, 
perhaps forever, to the heathen sword. Progress and 
civilization demanded that they should conquer; and 
they did. After a terrific conflict, the heathens were 
utterly defeated and their dream of a world empire was 
shattered forever. The cross had triumphed. Europe 
was safe. 

It is customary to look upon the Mohammedan faith 
as a delusion, or an imposture, but it has quite a number 
of very good features. It is the religious faith of one- 
third of the human race. Mohammed himself could 
not read or write, but he was strangely gifted. He was 
sincere in the belief of his own mission. He preached 
eloquently in his pulpit, and fought valiantly on the 
field. He elevated a great mass of people from base 
idolatry to the belief in one God, which was a distinct 
advance. He made good regulations for the daily life 


88 


WESTERN EUROPE 


of his followers, enjoining cleanliness and sobriety. 
He emphasized the necessity for fasting, frequent 
prayer, and liberal charity. On almost every page of 
the Koran these virtues are urged. “Be constant in 
prayer and give alms!” is his typical admonition. 

Those who adopted this man’s religion lived it, and 
to this day no. people of any other faith are more loyal 
to their creed. It tinctures their whole lives. Thomas 
Carlyle (kar lil')? in his study of Mohammed as the 
prophet-hero, commenting on this attitude to their faith, 
says, “This night, the watchman on the streets of Cairo 
(ki'ro) when he cries. Who goes?’ will hear from the 
passenger, along with his answer, ‘There is no God but 
God!’ ” 

The Mohammedan doctrine is a mixture of Jewish 
and Christian beliefs. Mohammed had been in Syria, 
and had studied both of these faiths. He adopted from 
them what suited his purposes, and seasoned his selec- 
tions with his own ideas and fancies, thus making the 
creed known as Islamism (iz'lamizm). Islam means 
resignation to the will of God. The followers are 
known as Mussulmans (mus'siil manz) — the Resigned. 

The Koran, which is read daily in the mosques, and 
which contains the articles of Islamism, is a confused 
medley of good and evil, wise and foolish precepts and 
prayers, threats and promises. The Moslems believe it 
was divinely inspired and that it explains all the mys- 
teries of creation. 

Its science is marvelous. It declares that the 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


89 


heavens and earth were solid till God rent them asun- 
der. It explains that the heavens form a roof well 
supported, and that shooting stars are pieces of red-hot 
stones with which good angels repel the approach of 
evil spirits. It states that the earth is a great flat plane 
circled by mountains to hold it steady! Let these 
mountains give way and the whole earth will drop to 
destruction! 

Modern science and modern metaphysics (met'a- 
fiz'iks) are striving to bridge the gulf between this 
world and the next. Mohammed spanned it with the 
bridge of A1 Sirat (al si rat'), the width of a hair. 
Upon this bridge stands the angel Israfel (esrafel'), 
who has the sweetest voice of all God’s creatures. He 
is the angel of the trumpet, and on his sounding the 
horn thrice, the souls try to cross the bridge. Those 
who have lived a blameless life pass over at lightning 
speed, those of medium virtue travel as a horse gallops, 
while the unfortunates who have a bad record wabble 
along uncertainly, and finally drop into the abyss below. 

It has been supposed by some persons that Moham- 
med claimed to be a god, but he did not. He only 
declared himself a divinely appointed messenger of 
God. In support of this claim he wore a seal ring with 
this inscription engraved upon it, “Mohammed, the 
Messenger of God.” In the pulpit he denied any claim 
to divinity, publicly declaring, “I am no God. I am 
but the son of an Arab woman who ate fish dried in the 
sun.” 


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WESTERN EUROPE 


It requires considerable patience for one not of the • 
Mohammedan faith to wade through the Koran. The 
Prophet himself speaks of it as a “confused heap of 
dreams!” Yet from its pages we can cull many gems 
worthy of consideration. Here are a few: 

^‘Use full measures and a just balance.’^ 

“Pray five times a day.” 

“Fear God that ye may be happy.” 

“Respect your mother.” 

“Love perfume, prayer, and women.” 

“They whose balances are heavy with good deeds, shall be 
happy.” 

He inveighs strongly against idolatry, drunkenness, 
and gaming, declaring that “images, and wine, and lots 
and divining arrows are the work of Satan.” 

In another injunction he commends the nurture of 
the finer senses of the being: “If a man finds himself 
with bread in both hands, he should exchange one loaf 
for some flowers of the narcissus, since the loaf feeds 
the body indeed, but the flowers nourish the soul.” 

The Koran promises many pleasures to the faithful 
Moslems who work righteousness; it assures them they 
shall “enjoy gardens of pleasure” and be served plen- 
teous feasts by beautiful maidens with “large dark 
eyes.” The Prophet must have disliked gray-eyed per- 
sons, for he promises that “on the last day when the 
trumpet shall be sounded, God will gather together on 
that day the wicked having gray eyes!” 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


91 


Mohammed was a fatalist. Islamism is a doctrine 
of fatalism ; that is, it teaches that everything must come 
to pass as it has been decreed. The pages of the Koran 
teem with declarations such as this: “It is written in 
his book of decrees!” So imbued are the Moham- 
medans with this doctrine that to this day they resign 
themselves unquestioningly to the inevitable, merely 
saying, “It was written!” 

These are some features of the religion that revolu- 
tionized the lives of nations. 

After some years of conquest, having established a 
wonderful religious empire, partly by the sword and 
partly by persuasion, the Saracens turned their attention 
to intellectual pursuits, and developed a great passion 
for learning. They investigated the literature of the 
classic nations and many notable works were translated 
into the Arabic. Among these works were the “Iliad” 
and the “Odyssey,” which became great favorites. 

Schools and colleges sprang up every place, and 
fairly dotted the empire. At Bagdad, Haroun-al- 
Raschid (ha ron' al rash'id), the renowned caliph who 
was contemporaneous (kon'tem p5 ra'ne us) with 
Charlemagne, ordered a school attached to every 
mosque. 

It was the proud boast of the Saracens that they 
produced more poets than all the other nations com- 
bined. They made extensive and valuable experiments 
in chemistry (kem'istry), and brought the study of 
algebra (al'jebra) into general use. We are indebted 


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to them for the idea of the moving pendulum (pen'du- 
lum) to measure time, and the introduction of Indian 
numerals in arithmetic. 

But the arts and sciences (si'ensez) and other 
serious subjects did not occupy their attention entirely, 
for they were inveterate chess players and finally taught 
the game to Europe. Romantic and imaginative writers 
produced novels and stories. Their most famous story 
book is the “Thousand and One Nights,” which con- 
tains the thrilling tales of “Sindbad (sind'bad), the 
Sailor,” and “Aladdin (alad'in) and the Wonderful 
Lamp.” It was in this empire that the torch of learn- 
ing was kept alive while Europe was in the shadow of 
the Dark Ages. 

Exactly one hundred years after the death of 
Mohammed, the Saracen rule reached from the Indus 
to the Pyrenees. The religion was destined to have 
even a wider spread. In the eleventh century the 
Turks, wild Mongolian (mon go'll an) Tartar tribes 
from Central Asia, invaded the Saracen empire, cap- 
tured Bagdad and Jerusalem, and established them- 
selves as rulers there. The Turks adopted the Moham- 
medan faith and became even more fanatic about it 
than were the original followers of the Prophet. These 
were a brutal and ignorant people, and under their rule 
all the evil influences of the Mohammedan faith again 
prevailed. For centuries they cast covetous eyes upon 
Constantinople as a doorway into Europe, and in 1453 
they effected the capture of that city. 












JS? 

PI 



i 


m 


93 


The interior of the church of St. Sophia 










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Since the fifth century, when the Roman Empire, 
upon the death of Theodosius (the o do'shi us) , had 
been divided between his two sons into an Eastern and a 
Western Empire, Constantinople had been the capital 
of the Eastern division, which had continued an exist- 
ence even after the fall of the Western Empire in 476. 

In 1453, Mohammed II, ruler of the Turks, with 
two hundred and fifty thousand followers, besieged 
Constantinople. The city attempted to hold out, but 
after the Turkish artillery had battered the walls for 
fifty-three days, a breach was made in them, and the 
yellow hordes dashed through. Constantine (kon'stan- 
tin), the last of the Caesars of the Eastern Empire, fell 
in the breach, sword in hand, and perished. 

When the capture of the city became an assured 
fact, the frightened populace crowded to the sacred 
precincts of St. Sophia, the great church, and in the 
space of an hour, sanctuary, choir, nave, and galleries 
were filled with a seething mass of men, women, and 
children from all ranks and walks in life. Barricading 
the place as best they could, they prepared to keep the 
foe at bay. Some even hoped that the Moslem forces 
would be miraculously repulsed, for an old prophecy 
declared that the Turks would enter Constantinople 
and force their way to the column of Constantine before 
the church, at which point an angel with a flaming 
sword would appear and drive them from the city back 
to the uttermost frontier of Persia. 

But alas! the angel of the sword failed to appear. 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


95 


and the Turks, unrepulsed by celestial defenders, bat- 
tered the barricades and poured into the church led 
by Mohammed, who, mounted on his horse, flourished 
his sword and took possession of the place in the name 
of God and His Prophet! 

Just as the hordes broke down the doors, a priest 
was administering the sacrament. Fearing the invaders 
would lay profane hands upon the sacred things of the 
service, the priest prayed for protection, and behold! 
the wall beside the altar opened, and there came forth 
a shining angel who carried both priest and sacred 
things into the niche which instantly closed over, hid- 
ing them from view. The amazed heathens, who saw 
the miracle, strove to batter down the wall, but could 
not. So legend says, and adds further, that in his safe 
retreat the priest still slumbers, awaiting the day when 
the city shall be retaken by the Christians, at which 
time he will come forth and complete his service. 

Failing to force the retreat of the rescued priest, 
the Turks turned their attention to their frightened 
captives. Meeting with no resistance from these, they 
refrained from bloodshed, but worse than the sword 
awaited the victims, who, regardless of family ties, were 
yoked into pairs and driven oflf in long lines to the 
awful fate of servitude. 

So fell the city of Constantinople, and with it the 
name of Rome. The Eastern Empire was at an end, 
ended by the Turk, even as the Teuton had ended the 
Western Empire a thousand years before. 


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The church of St. Sophia, which was the center of 
the exciting scenes of the capture, was the most mag- 
nificent structure of all Christendom. Begun by Con- 
stantine the Great in the fourth century, it was later 
destroyed by fire, and restored in 538 A. D. by the 
Emperor Justinian (jus tin'fi an), who levied tribute 
from almost every noted temple of the world for its 
adornment. 

The building had vast porticoes and a huge vault 
over one hundred and eighty feet high by one hundred 
feet wide. It had eight magnificent porphyry (por'- 
fi ry) columns taken from the temple of the sun at 
Baalbec (bal'bek), eight of green granite brought from 
the temple of Diana at Ephesus (ef'esus), and others 
from the sacred temples of Heliopolis (he li op'o lis) , 
Athens and other cities. The walls and arches were faced 
with marble slabs and sparkling mosaics (mo za'iks) 
of gilded glass. Mosaics are coarse imitations of paint- 
ings. They are inlaid work made in patterns of many 
colored cubes of stones and glass nicely fitted together. 
When the church was completed, it was so glorious 
that the emperor, who worked at the building as a 
common laborer, exclaimed proudly, “Solomon! I 
have surpassed thee!” 

Many beautiful legends cluster about the great 
edifice. According to these legends, angels were much 
in evidence during its erection. The intricate plan of 
the building was revealed to Justinian in a dream by a 
heavenly spirit. As the workmen slept at night after 


SARACEN AND TEUTON 


97 


their day’s toil, angelic hosts took their places and 
labored at their tasks. When the vast fund for the 
enormous expenses of the structure was exhausted, and 
it seemed the church must stand unfinished, an angel 
disguised as a donkey-boy, led a string of mules to 
secret treasure vaults and returned with loads of the 
needed gold. 

During the building of the church it was proclaimed 
that the person who rendered the service most pleasing 
to God should, upon the completion of the edifice, find 
his name inscribed by an angel in the sacred place 
above the altar. Coveting this high honor, many great 
gifts were contributed by the wealthy nobles, and it 
was thought to one of these the dignity would be 
accorded. 

But not so! When the church was completed, 
behold! in the appointed place appeared the name of 
a poor peasant woman. 

The officials sought her out. “What did you do to 
have this honor bestowed upon you?” they asked. 

“I did nothing,” she said, “except to remove the 
sharp stones from the path over which the sorely bur- 
dened oxen toiled daily, for my heart bled to see their 
sufferings.” 

Thereat the officers pondered in their hearts and 
thought many things. 

When the city was taken by the Turks the mag- 
nificent church was converted into a Mohammedan 
mosque, and such it has remained to this day. 



Charlemagne at the head of his army. 


CHAPTER IX 

THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 

After Charles Martel died, his son Pippin, or 
Pepin (pe'pin), nicknamed The Short, because of his 
lack of height, took the scepter of Frankish power. 
He did this in appearance as well as in reality. He 
decided to assume the title, since the Do-Nothing kings 
had given over to him all of their authority. 

Wishing the sanction of the Pope, who had, by this 
time, become very powerful in both spiritual and tem- 
poral affairs, he asked that official’s permission to call 
himself King of the Franks. The Pope agreed and 
forthwith the Do-Nothing was shorn of his long locks 
to mark his degradation, and was sent away to a monas- 
tery, there to end his days; while Pippin was anointed 
king amid great rejoicings. 

98 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 


99 


Though Pippin was short in stature he was decid- 
edly long in courage. There is a pretty legend which 
shows his valor. He overheard certain of his officers 
deriding him on account of his stature, and doubting 
his courage.^Angered at this, and determined to prove 
himself a man of valor, he ordered a wild bull and a 
lion to be brought to a certain festival at which all the 
deriding officers were to be present in full armor. 

At the sight of the two animals, chained, the specta- 
tors shuddered, but they shuddered more audibly when 
Pippin, who was without armor, coolly ordered the 
two animals to be let loose. Instantly the lion leaped 
on the bull and sank his claws into the creature’s neck. 
The spectators were paralyzed with fear. The king 
turned to his officers. “One of you go and drag the 
lion from the bull, or else slay him,” he ordered. 

Drag the lion from the bull 1 No one stirred. Such 
a course meant certain death, or so it seemed. 

Then cried bold little Pippin, scornfully, “Whatl 
afraid! And you in armor! Watch me!” Thereat 
he drew his sword, rushed at the two animals, and deftly 
slew them both. 

All the ladies present cheered the little hero, and 
the armored knights felt small enough to hide in a 
thimble! Needless to say, none ever again questioned 
the valor of Pippin the Short. 

When Pippin died, his son Charles, known as Karl 
Magnus (karl mag'nos), or Charlemagne, became king. 
Charles was the most heroic and picturesque figure in 


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mediaeval (me'die'val) history, a king, great in peace 
and great in war. Under him the Franks achieved 
world empire. 

Charles lived in the so-called Dark Ages. The 
records of those times are so saturated with legends 
and romance that it is very difficult to glean the truth 
from them. We learn from them but little of the boy- 
hood of the great Frank; even the year of his birth is 
in doubt, but it is generally accepted as 742 A. D. 

It it probably true that the early education of 
Charles was that of a warrior, rather than a scholar, 
for in those troubled times the sword was much more 
necessary than the pen. However, in his manhood we 
know without question that Charles devoted much time 
to study, and became famous for his learning. 

As a man he was a notable figure, being seven times 
as tall as his foot was long, and as he did not wear a 
Cinderella slipper, he was over-tall. Manly and dig- 
nified in his bearing, his open, honest countenance, 
long, flaxen hair and beard, flashing blue eyes, and 
proudly poised head attracted attention at once. He 
was a man of tremendous strength ; he could straighten 
three horse-shoes at a single wrench. The stories tell, 
too, that he could fell a horse and rider with one blow 
of his fist. 

Charles was a man of very simple tastes and was 
quite indifferent to style or show. On ordinary occa- 
sions he wore the national costume of the Franks; linen 
trousers and shirt, and a silk-fringed tunic. His stock- 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE loi 

ings were linen bandages or leather leggings; his shoes 
were laced with leather thongs. 

His winter coat was made of otter or ermine fur, 
and over this he wore a long blue mantle. Always at 
his side hung his mighty sword, Joyeuse (zhwa'yez). 

Though Charles wore plain clothes on plain occa- 
sions, no one could outdress him on festive ones. Then 
he arrayed himself in rich garments of gold-embroid- 
ered cloth, rare jewels, and a magnificent diadem, in 
which he presented a dazzling appearance. 

Charles was a professed champion of the Cross. 
It was his zeal in spreading Christianity that led to 
some of his greatest conquests and the enlargement of 
his domain, which eventually included Germany, 
France, Belgium (bel'jium), Switzerland, northern 
Spain, and Italy — in fact, all of Western Europe. 

In the beginning of his reign the Franks were 
entirely Christianized, but they had heathen neighbors 
in the forests to their north. These neighbors were a 
tribe of Saxons, Teutons also, and kindred to the Saxons 
who had, three hundred years before, invaded and con- 
quered Great Britain. As the Saxons were the tribe 
farthest north, the Roman influences had never reached 
them to any extent, and they had advanced but little 
in civilization. Christian missionaries had occasionally 
ventured among them, but had met with small success 
in their efforts to convert the heathens, for whom Thor 
and Odin still reigned supreme. 

These heathen neighbors so troubled Charles that 


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he could scarcely sleep at nights thinking of their lost 
condition. He finally determined to Christianize them. 
This mission he thought to accomplish within a year, 
but the task was not to be so easy. He found it took 
thirty years of intermittent (in'ter mit'tent) fighting 
before he succeeded. 

In the summer of 772, he made his first attempt. 
He marched into Saxon territory with a large army and 
a company of priests. Charles was always accompanied 
by priests. His march was hotly but vainly contested 
by the Saxons; yet the determined Franks steadily 
advanced. 

In a certain forest the Saxons had a peculiar idol 
that was sacred to them. It was a gigantic tree-trunk, 
which they called Irminsul (er'min sal) . They thought 
it was the column which supported the world. It repre- 
sented the god Odin, who was sometimes called Irmin. 
This tree-idol, sacred to Odin, was worshiped by the 
Saxons, who offered it sacrifices and a great store of 
treasure which was kept in the hollow trunk. This 
was perfectly safe, for no one would steal from the god. 
Once a year the worshipers met at the tree to do it 
homage. 

To prove to them the impotence of their idol, 
Charles ordered it to be cut down in the presence of 
the heathens. They protested at the sacrilege, but 
Charles insisted on the test. “If your idol is a God,” 
he said, “he will save himself.” 

So the Franks chopped, and the idol failed to object. 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 103 

Out fell the treasure. The eyes of the Franks sparkled, 
for this was booty and was theirs. 

After a number of battles with this tribe, Charles 
concluded a treaty with them whereby they were 
pledged to refrain from injuring or harassing missiona- 
ries or Christian churches. Believing them quite sub- 
dued, he then returned to his capital at Aachen 
(a'chen), from which he was shortly called away to 
war with the Lombards, who had held sway in northern 
Italy ever since the reign of Alboin (al'boin), the king 
slain by Rosy Mouth. 

The power of the Pope had grown enormously dur- 
ing this same period, and the Church held vast lands. 
The Lombards claimed some of these and gave the 
Pope much trouble about them. When war threat- 
ened because of the dispute, the Pope sought a cham- 
pion in Charles, the self-announced defender of the 
Cross. He felt sure the great king would take his part. 
He was right. 

In response to the Pope’s appeal, the Frankish army 
marched to Italy. The Lombard king, having heard 
of the great prowess of Charles and of his vast army, 
was full of terror. He retired to Pavia (pave'a), a 
city oii the Po river, and shut the gates against a 
siege. 

An old writer, whose veracity is questionable, 
describes the approach of Charles in these words, which 
are a good example of the exaggeration of the chron- 
icles of that day: 


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Some years before, one of KarPs distinguished nobles, Otker 
by name, had offended him, and, to escape his wrath, had betaken 
himself to the Lombard king. When they heard of the approach 
of the terrible Karl, the king and Otker climbed to a high tower, 
whence they could see in all directions. When the advance guard 
appeared, which was stronger than the combined armies- of 
Xerxes and Darius, the king said to Otker, ‘Ts Karl with this 
great army do you think?” 

And Otker answered, “Not yet.” 

Then arrived the main army gathered from the whole empire 
— a tremendous host, and the king trembled. “Surely the victo- 
rious Karl is with these troops,” he said. 

And Otker replied, “Not yet.” 

“What shall we do,” said the troubled king, “if more come 
with him?” 

Otker said, “You will soon see how he will come, but what 
will become of us I know not.” 

Behold, while they spoke appeared the servants of Karl’s 
household — a never-resting multitude. “That is Karl,” cried the 
king. 

But Otker only said, “Not yet!” 

Then appeared the bishops and the abbots and the priests with 
their companies, and when he beheld these, the king was dazed, 
and stammered, “Let us go down, and hide in the earth from so 
terrible an enemy.” 

But Otker, who knew well the power of Karl, replied, “When 
you see a harvest of steel waving in the fields, and the Po dashing 
steel black waves against the city walls, then you may believe 
Karl is coming.” 

He had scarcely spoken when there appeared in the north a 
mist, as it were a cloud that wrapped the day in most dreadful 
shadow. But as Karl drew near there flashed upon the besieged 
from the gleaming weapons, a day more terrible than any night. 
Then they saw him, Karl, the Man of Steel ! Steel filled the roads 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 105 

and fields. The rays of the sun were reflected from the gleaming 
steel. The people, paralyzed by fear, did homage to the bristling 
steel. The fear of the steel pierced down into the earth ! “Alas ! 
the steel ! Alas ! the steel !” resounded the confused cries of the 
people. The mighty walls trembled before the steel. All this 
Other saw with one swift look. “There,” he said, “there you 
have Karl, whom you have so long desired to see!” And with 
these words he fell to the ground like one dead. 

So wrote the old scribe. He must have been a poet. 
But whether it all happened so, or not, one thing is 
certain — the Lombard king was terrified when the 
Franks encamped about Pavia and began a siege. 

During the progress of the siege, Charles made a 
trip to Rome to visit the Pope. He was conducted to 
St. Peter’s to see the great church. As he mounted 
the steps of the noble edifice, he knelt, and kissed each 
step in memory, he said, of the holy martyrs of the 
Church. On his entering the building the great choir 
rose and chanted, “Blessed is he who cometh in the 
name of the Lord!” 

After visiting all the noted places in the Eternal 
City, hfe returned to Pavia, and forced that city to sur- 
render. The Lombard king was shorn of his locks and 
sent into a monastery to end his days. 

Charles was formally crowned King of the Lom- 
bards, wearing at the coronation the famous iron crown 
of the Lombards, said to be formed of the nails that 
fastened Christ to the Cross. But doubtless that is 
imagination, too. 

The Lombard reign in Italy was ended and the 


WESTERN EUROPE 


io6 

Frankish begun. Charles returned to Aachen, but his 
season of peace was brief, for he was soon warring with 
the Saxons, who had shamelessly broken their treaties, 
and were burning the Christian chapels, and slaying 
the missionaries. 

During these attacks one of the churches founded 
by St. Boniface escaped by a miracle. The Christian 
Saxons, pursued by their heathen kindred, took refuge 
in the church. The heathens were about to fire the 
church when two radiant angels appeared in shining 
garments as defenders of the sanctuary. Panic- 
stricken at the vision, the Saxons fled, all but one man, 
who, in the act of applying the torch, fell dead. 

Finding the heathens obdurate (ob'du rat), Charles 
vowed he would continue the war till they were either 
converted or wiped out of existence. 

The great leader of the Saxons was a rebel named 
Wittikind (wit'ekind), who constantly incited the 
tribes to break their treaties. He was finally converted 
and baptized, Charles himself standing sponsor for him 
in the ceremony. The conversion of Wittikind prac- 
tically concluded the long Saxon wars, and Saxony 
became part of the empire of the Franks and ultimately 
one of the strongholds of Christianity. 

By the time he completed the conquest of the 
Saxons, Charles also obtained possession of northern 
Spain, and thus was King of the Franks, King of the 
Lombards, and King of Northern Spain. 

He was a great statesman as well as a warrior. He 



Charles attends the baptism of the Saxons. 


107 








io8 


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divided his empire into states, called Marks, governed 
by officers who were Counts or Wardens. These had 
considerable power, but were all subject to the king. 
Charlemagne held yearly assemblies of the whole peo- 
ple at which every freeman had a right to appear and 
have a voice in affairs. These meetings were called 
Diets. He was a great patron of education. In those 
days, known as the Dark Ages, learning had prac- 
tically died out, for the pen was overshadowed by the 
sword. 

In the monasteries, however, there was considerable 
intellectual life. In these the monks pursued their 
studies, illuminated their manuscripts, and carved their 
ivories, but among the people at large there was little 
education. The only place the torch of learning 
burned brightly was in the Saracen empire. Charles, 
in his attempt to relight the torch in Europe, founded 
schools and invited scholars, wherever he heard of 
them, to come to his realm. He even made himself a 
sort of Superintendent of Schools, and visited the tem- 
ples of learning to see the pupils at their tasks and to 
observe the methods of the teachers. 

The royal visitor found out that he did not under- 
stand what was going on. He realized his own 
ignorance and soon made a change in things. Deter- 
mined to know at least as much as the teachers, he estab- 
lished a school in the palace for himself and his nobles. 
He became the prize pupil in his own college, taking 
all the honors in Greek, Latin, law, and history. 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 109 

History was his favorite study, and he preferred it 
taught by stories. So fond was he of this study that 
the Story-teller of the Palace School had to regale him 
with heroic tales at meals. 

If we may believe a newspaper report, this wonder- 
ful man was something of a poet, too, for it is said that 
quite recently a Cardinal of the Church discovered in 
the Vatican library an old manuscript containing an 
elegy written in Latin couplets by Charles in memory 
of his son. 

Industrial schools are a proud boast of modern 
civilization, but Charles established them in the Dark 
Ages. He sent his daughters to one to learn spin- 
ning and weaving. His own clothes were made from 
the cloth his daughters wove. He said that if they 
were not too proud to weave it, he was not too proud 
to wear it. 

Charles got “Poor” in penmanship. He could not 
write well, no matter how faithfuly he practiced. He 
wanted to be an expert penman and even slept with his 
tablets under his pillow, to have them in readiness for 
morning practice, before he arose. But the muscles 
had been too long trained to the use of the sword, and 
the hand that wielded the mighty Joyeuse failed with 
the pen. However, Charles made a fair mark in the 
world’s history in spite of his weakness in penmanship. 
Several other men have received notable marks on the 
report cards of the world, in spite of their hieroglyphics 
which were hard to decipher. 


no 


WESTERN EUROPE 


Charles established a literary society among his 
knights. Each member assumed the name of some 
learned author or some illustrious character in history. 
Charles himself was David, as that warrior king was 
his favorite hero. At the meetings each member was 
addressed by his assumed name, and many learned sub- 
jects were discussed. 

Though Charles was a very liberal-minded man, he 
had an aversion to doctors, for they prescribed for him 
a diet excluding roast beef, of which he was especially 
fond. He thought they ought to be able to cure his 
troubles without denying him his favorite dish. 

Life in the palace was very gay. Many of the 
young nobles, however, attired themselves too gayly on 
ordinary occasions to suit Charles. He played a trick 
on them, hoping to point a lesson on the. folly of vanity. 

One cloudy day he invited them to hunt with him. 
They dressed themselves in silk and velvet and fine 
shoes. Charles sensibly wore a sheepskin suit. When 
the company reached the hunting grounds the king pur- 
posely led his companions through briers and bushes. 
Of course, they had to follow their leader, and when 
the king heard behind him, “Sizz — rip — tear,” he 
smiled contentedly. The thorns made no impression 
on his sheepskin suit, and he came through the bushes 
as whole as he entered them, but his nobles presented 
a sorry, ragged sight. They wished to retreat to the 
palace, but Charles was remorseless. “Not yet,” he 
said. He saw a great storm was brewing, and he 





Charles presiding at his school 


III 













II2 


WESTERN EUROPE 


wanted to emphasize the lesson by drenching them. 
Down came the rain in torrents, and the remnants of 
the fine feathers were completely spoiled. On their 
way back to the palace, the king led the foolish nobles 
through deep, miry places in which many left their 
shoes. His own stout leather boots defied the mire. 

On reaching the palace the men were anxious to 
enter by the back way, and thus escape the eyes of the 
ladies, assembled at the front entrance. But Charles 
served them that dose of humiliation, too. “We will 
eat just as we are,’’ he said. So they had to face the 
batteries of the eyes of the fair ones, in their bedrag- 
gled array. The king himself was the only one who 
looked like a real man. He was very complacent over 
the little incident and he was sure he had taught his 
courtiers such a lesson that they would renounce their 
vanities, and dress in working clothes on working days, 
reserving their fine array for holiday occasions. But 
apparently it was no lesson to them, for the next day 
every man appeared again in festival raiment. Charles 
gave up dress reform in disgust. 

The fame of the great Frank spread everywhere. 
From far and near presents poured in on him. Two 
of these offerings came from the Saracen caliph 
Haroun-al-Raschid, ruling at Bagdad. The gifts he 
sent were a water-clock and an elephant. The elephant 
was the sensation of Europe. No one had ever seen 
an elephant, and a particular record of his journey and 
his behavior on the journey has been preserved. 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 113 

Charles’ favorite residence was Aachen, which is 
also called Aix-la-Chapelle (aks la shapel'). The 
name Aachen is derived from an old German word for 
water. Aix-la-Chapelle, the French name, means the 
chapel by the flowing waters. There is an interesting 
legend which explains how Charles chose the site for 
Aachen. 

The gay little love god Cupid aimed his darts at 
the great king quite often, and led him to the marriage 
altar several times. One of his wives was a beautiful 
eastern princess, Frastrada (fras trad'a) , who won the 
affections of the king by means of a magic ring. Such 
was the charm of the ring that whoever possessed it 
would be the object of the king’s devotion. Frastrada 
fell ill, and fearing that some one else might get the 
ring, and gain the king’s love, she hid it in her mouth 
and died with it there. 

Charles grieved desperately over her death, and, 
owing to the secret charm of the ring, could not bear 
to part with the body. He vowed it should not be 
buried and hidden from his sight, and he spent long 
hours beside it, fasting, weeping, and praying. 

His great friend and adviser, the Archbishop Tur- 
pin, in striving to solve the king’s infatuation for the 
dead body, discovered the ring in the mouth of the 
corpse. He removed it and hid it upon his own person. 
Charles immediately permitted the burial of the lady, 
but evinced an embarrassing affection for Turpin. In 
fact, he persecuted him with loving attentions. The 


WESTERN. EUROPE 


1 14 

churchman wearied of this, and, deciding that it must 
be caused by some magic power in the ring, he deter- 
mined to get rid of the undesirable magnet. So he 
stole out into the deep forest and sought a certain broad 
lake into which he tossed the enchanted ring. Greatly 
relieved to be rid of it, he returned home and met 
Charles. Much to his joy, the king, instead of throwing 
his arms about him and straining him to his bosom, 
merely nodded and passed on. The charm was over 
as far as the archbishop was concerned. 

Not long after this, Charles, hunting in the forest, 
chased a royal stag up to the very waters of the pool 
wherein lay the enchanted ring. As soon as he glanced 
at the pool, he forgot the stag! “Lovely spot!” he cried. 
“Spot of my soul’s desire! Nevermore will I wander 
from thy confines save when duty calls me to my holy 
wars! Here shall be my habitation forever!” So here 
he founded the famous city of Aachen. You may 
believe as much of this as you choose. 

The life of Charles was miraculously saved upon 
one occasion. As he was lying in bed one night, wide 
awake, an angel appeared to him three separate times, 
and on each occasion repeated the same words. “Arise, 
go forth and steal.” 

This seemed a very peculiar command, but as it 
came from an angel, Charles knew it was given for 
some good purpose, and he obeyed. He rose, arrayed 
himself in his armor, mounted his horse, and rode ofif in 
quest of adventure. 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE nS 

He had gone but a little way when he met the most 
renowned robber of the age, a man named Elbegast 
(elbegast), whom he had been trying to capture for 
years. Charles engaged the knight in parley. Soon 
they quarreled, and a duel, in which the king was 
victor, ensued. 

Now Elbegast had never before been conquered by 
mortal man. He conceived a great respect for the 
sword that had defeated him. The two fell to talking; 
Elbegast told his name, but the king withheld his. 

Said Charles, “So you are the notorious robber. 
Well, I, too, came out to-night to steal. Let us join our 
forces and see what comes of it.” 

The robber agreed and both set forth. Charles 
thought to trap the thief, so he proposed that they 
should rob the house of a certain officer of the king’s 
court. 

When they arrived at the house, the thief said to 
Charles, “You are not an expert thief. You wait here 
while I go in and get the booty.” 

Charles waited in the outer court while the thief 
crept on to the officer’s room. He was about to enter 
when he heard voices. He paused, listening in horror, 
for he heard the entire details of a plot to murder the 
king on the following day. He hurried out to his wait- 
ing companion, and, not dreaming he was the king, told 
what he had heard, and urged him to seek Charles and 
warn him of his danger. 

The king promised he would do this and the men 


Ii6 WESTERN EUROPE 

parted. Charles returned to his palace, and being fore- 
warned, was easily able to circumvent the plans of the 
wicked officer, who was arrested and properly pun- 
ished. 

As for Elbegast, the famous robber, he was appre- 
hended and brought before the king, who, in reward 
for his loyalty, forgave him and made him one of his 
most trusted guards. To commemorate his preserva- 
tion, Charles named the castle where he received the 
warning Ingleheim (in'glhim), which means AngeVs 
Home. 

Charles was a great patron of architecture. In the 
city of Aachen he erected the most magnificent church 
of his times. The most skilled artisans of the age 
worked on it. Its doors and railings were solid brass, 
and it was gorgeously decorated with ornaments of gold 
and silver, and rare silken hangings. All the columns 
were of pure marble. At the church services, the 
officers had to wear costly and beautiful garments, 
which were all supplied at the king’s expense, for he 
thought nothing was too good for God. 

While the church was in process of construction, 
Charles was called away on some of his wars, and was 
obliged to leave the building in charge of an overseer. 
The man was avaricious (av'a rish'us) , and saw a 
chance to make a lot of money. He called the work- 
men. “You are discharged,” he said. This was ter- 
rible. It meant starvation to them. “Oh, let us have 
our work,” they pleaded. 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE H? 

^‘You may have it on a condition,” he answered. 
‘‘Each man must pay me one-half of his wages.” 

Poor men! They had children who needed bread. 
Half a loaf was better than none; so they had to submit 
to the tax. 

The dishonest overseer stored his ill-gotten gain in 
two chesfs. One day his house took fire. He ran 
home to save his gold, and rushing into the house, got 
the boxes on his shoulders. As he was leaving a heavy 
beam fell on him and killed him. The money dropped 
out of the boxes, and the men told their story. When 
Charles came back their money was restored to them. 
The dishonest overseer got his wages, too — the wages of 
sin, which is death. 

Charles wanted an especially fine bell for this 
church. To cast it he hired a skillful bell-maker. 

“I can make you the sweetest-toned bell in the 
world, if you will give me all silver for it,” said the 
bellsmith. 

Charles agreed, though it was customary to use 
some alloy (al loi') in the composition. This man was 
avaricious, too, and used a common base for the bell, 
covering it with a thin veneer (ve ner') of silver. The 
unused portion of the precious metal he kept for him- 
self, sure that no one would crack the bell to prove its 
composition. 

When the bell was completed Charles was well 
pleased with it and ordered it to be raised to the belfry, 
but when it was in place no one could ring it, for it 


Ii8 


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Stuck fast in the tower. Charles sent for the bell- 
maker, who saw what was the difficulty. “Oh, yes. I 
will pull it into place,” he said, giving a mighty jerk 
as he spoke. Lo! the rope broke, and down crashed 
the bell on his head, and killed him. The bell rolling 
over, hit the hard ground, and cracked open. The 
fraud was discovered and Charles got back hi’s silver. 

This famous chapel was destroyed by the Normans, 
but was afterwards rebuilt in 983 A. D. by Emperor 
Otto III. It forms the nucleus of the present cathe- 
dral of Aix. In a certain place in the cathedral there 
is a stone with the inscription, “Carlo Magnus.” This 
slab marks the grave of Charlemagne. Here is pre- 
served the ivory hunting horn of the king, the horn with 
which he wakened the echoes over hill and dale, the 
horn whose notes could be heard above the roar of 
the torrent, and through the wild forest’s rustling 
boughs. But it sounds no more! No one is able to 
force from it aught but a faint, wailing note. It is as 
though he, who was its master, said: “Dead is the 
hunter — silent be the horn!” 

Charles had a certain minstrel, called Arnold, of 
whose songs he was very fond. One time Arnold 
accompanied the king and some nobles on a hunting 
expedition. As the company ate their lunch at noon, 
the minstrel entertained them with his music. So 
pleased was the king upon this occasion that he offered 
to give the minstrel whatever he might ask. 

The minstrel chose land. 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE HQ 

“How much?” asked Charles. 

“As much as I can ride around while you and your 
company eat a meal,” replied the minstrel. 

The king agreed and the contest was set for the next 
noon. The minstrel, mounted on his horse, set out 
from the marked station, and rode at furious speed. 
His horse soon tired, but he had shrewdly prepared for 
this, and had placed relays of horses all about the for- 
est. As soon as one horse tired he dismounted and got 
on another. By this means he succeeded in circling the 
entire forest and returning to the original station just as 
the king and his friends completed their repast. 

“Well,” said the king, “how much land do you 
claim?” 

“The entire forest, your majesty,” answered the 
minstrel. 

The king was somewhat startled. This was more, 
he thought, than he had bargained for, and as the forest 
was extensive, he failed to understand how it had been 
encompassed in the stipulated time. Thereupon, the 
minstrel explained his scheme. “But I do not care for 
the land for myself,” he said. “I only want it so that 
I may be able to aid the poor with the proceeds I obtain 
from it.” 

This argument persuaded the king. He gave him 
not only the forest land, but a fine castle. To this day, 
in honor of the minstrel, the place is called Arnolds- 
weiler (ar'nolds vi ler). 

Charles had a young secretary whose name was 


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Eginhard (in'hard). The secretary was a splendid 
fellow and attended the palace school where the king 
and the nobles were taught by the wise priest Alcuin 
(al'kwin). He learned so easily that his teacher was 
persuaded that such progress must be due to the special 
grace of God. Eginhard studied astronomy, music, 
arithmetic, Latin, and many other subjects. He cared 
for nothing but his books till he met Emma, the fair 
daughter of the king. 

Now Emma was as fresh as the morn, and as beau- 
tiful as the May. All the courtiers were in love with 
her, and eager to wed her, but she would have none of 
them. 

The moment Eginhard met the fair maid he, too, 
loved her, but he dared not pay court to her. The 
daughter of the king was not for the humble secretary, 
so he adored in secret. Now Emma was thrown often 
into his company, and, as he was pleasing, and of suffi- 
cient intelligence to be able to enlighten her about 
puzzling things, she often put questions to him to 
answer for her. 

“Explain to me,” she said, “the mystery of the rose.” 

He sighed. “Its mystery is love; its meaning, 
youth.” This was poetic even if it was not scientific. 

When she questioned him as to which were the 
brightest of the stars, he murmured, “Your eyes!” And 
forthwith he fell to star-gazing. 

None of the great nobles talked as the secretary did, 
and it was not long till the gentle Emma found her 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 


I2I 


heart in his keeping. The two were tremblingly 
happy, but they dared not let the king discover their 
love. Therefore, they contrived to meet in secret. 

One winter evening the youthful secretary called 
on his dear love in her tower where she dwelt. The 
evening was passed in pleasant discourse. When the 
hour to part came, and she went to the door with him 
to say good-night, they were both appalled to find that 
a heavy snow had fallen, and the earth was covered as 
with a soft, white mantle. The fall of snow had 
ceased: 

And the moon, placid as a nun on high, 

Gazed from the cloudy clusters of the sky ! 

The lovers were in despair. What was to be done! 
The mark of Eginhard’s Frankish boots would betray 
their secret. In this extremity Emma’s woman’s wit 
came to their rescue. 

“I will carry you on my back,” she said, “over to 
your own part of the palace, and then return. My own 
double tracks will never be questioned.” 

The German ladies of those days were stalwart 
creatures, and, as Emma was of especially great 
strength, she was equal to the task she set for herself. 
Since there was no other way out of the difficulty, Egin- 
hard consented, and the lady with her burden set forth 
across the snow. 

Now it chanced, just as they were passing through 
the courtyard, that Charles came to his window to look 


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out Upon the night. He saw how the moon lighted up 
the gables capped with snow, and how it sheeted the 
walls and towers, He saw, too, his daughter carrying 
his secretary across the yard! 

Charles had been in love several times himself, and 
this made him wise. He guessed the secret at once. 
Nothing was said that night, but in the morning he 
summoned the lovers to appear before him, and told 
them what he had seen. The two culprits trembled. 
Eginhard was sure his last hour had arrived, and poor 
Emma mentally visioned a cloister. But Charles only 
smiled at their dismay, and taking his daughter’s white 
hand. 

Placed it in Eginhard’s and said, “My son, 

This is the gift thy constant zeal has won ; 

Thus I repay the royal debt I owe, 

And cover up the footprints in the snow,” 

You will find this story as told by the American 
poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, among “The 
Tales of a Wayside Inn.” 

The crowning glory of Charles’ career came to him 
in his later years when he became Emperor of Rome. 

In the year 799 A. D. enemies of the Pope, jealous 
of his power, fabricated some charge against him and 
took him captive. They horribly abused him — beat 
him and even tried to pull his tongue out by the roots. 
Making his escape, he hastened to his champion, 
Charles, who was justly horrified when he heard the 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 


123 


Story. Charles restored the Pope to his seat. This 
incident proved that whoever dared injure the Pope 
had to answer to Charles for it. As none cared to 
offend the great warrior, who commanded the greatest 
army of the world, the Pope was safe. 

Charles visited Rome in 800 A. D. to make sure 
that all things were properly settled. He was received 
with great pomp and splendor in that city. There 
were great rejoicings among the people, and the Pope 
was especially happy. 

When Christmas was near at hand, the Pope 
planned a surprise for Charles. A special Christmas 
mass was to be celebrated in the cathedral, and when 
the hour of service arrived, there was present a mighty 
throng of people. Charles and his nobles, in royal 
state, were the most observed of all present. The choir 
chanted jubilantly the Christmas story, and Charles 
knelt reverently at the altar, while the Pope read a 
solemn mass. After the ceremony, the Pope took a 
golden crown from the altar, and bending over Charles, 
placed it upon his head, saying, “Long life and victory 
to Charles Augustus, Emperor of the Romans!” 

At the word the vast concourse of people arose, and 
cried with one voice, “Long life and victory to Charles 
Augustus, Emperor of the Romans!” 

Charles appeared to be taken completely by sur- 
prise at the coronation, but some histories hint that he 
knew of it beforehand. In fact, he has been accused of 
having planned the surprise party himself. However 


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that may be, Charles was now the most powerful of 
earthly princes, and thus it came about that a German 
sat on the throne of the Caesars, and was hailed as 
Emperor of Rome, on Christmas Day, 800 A. D. 

Fourteen years after this coronation, Charles died 
in his palace at Aachen. His last words were, “Into 
thy hands, oh Lord, I commit my spirit.” He was 
entombed on the very day he died, his body being 
placed in the crypt (kript) of the famous church he 
had built. 

He was not placed in a coffin, but was seated on an 
ivory throne, ornamented with gold. Upon his head 
was placed his royal crown, on his knees an open Bible, 
and by his side his well-beloved sword that had served 
him so faithfully in so many wars. 

Almost two hundred years later, the German 
Emperor, Otto HI, ordered the opening of the tomb. 
The body was found in a remarkable state of preserva- 
tion. The emperor had the corpse placed in a sar- 
cophagus (sar kof'a gus) , where it has been ever since. 
The sword and regalia — the ornaments of royalty — 
were transported to Vienna, where they figure among 
the royal treasures. 

The German people are very proud of the memory 
of Charles, and the peasantry of the little village of 
Lange Winkel (lang'ge wing'kl) believe that his spirit 
still haunts the place. It is said that the moon builds 
a silver bridge above the emerald Rhine, and over this 
bridge, sworded, mantled, and crowned, the mighty 


THE STORY OF CHARLEMAGNE 


125 


emperor wends his way, bestowing his benediction on 
the vineyards, far and wide. The year the imperial 
shadow appears the country folk rejoice, for it assures 
them of rich fruitage. 

Not long after the death of Charles the kingdom 
declined, as all great world empires had done. No 
ruler succeeded who had power enough to hold it 
together. Out of its dismemberment there eventually 
arose the modern states of France, Italy, and the present 
Germanic countries. 



The Pass of Roncesvalles. 


CHAPTER X 

COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES.^' 

The story of the great battle at Roncesvalles (ron'- 
seval'les) is one of the many legends concerning 
' Roland (ro'land), one of the chief heroes of mediaeval 
romance. This story, which is the most heroic of all 
these tales, is adapted from the great French epic, the 
“Chanson (shon son') de Roland,” which tells of the 
hero’s valor in the Pass of Roncesvalles. There is little 
historical basis for the story, and it is to the imagination 
of the poets that we are indebted for the elaborate epic 
in which the legend is preserved. 

Perhaps it will not be unwise to recount, very 
briefly, what little history has to say on this subject 
before relating the legend. 

♦By permission of the St. Nicholas Magazine. 

126 



COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 127 

Charles the Great, having conquered the heathen 
Saxons of the north, and having induced them to accept 
the Christian faith, turned his attention to, the unbe- 
lievers of Spain, the Mohammedan Moors, or Sara- 
cens. 

In the year 778 A. D., when Charles was but thirty- 
six years old, he crossed the Pyrenees Mountains, and 
advanced into Spain to engage in war. He gained 
but few victories, and at the close of the year, for some 
reason, concerning which history is vague, he decided 
to abandon the Spanish campaign. 

To protect the main army, he left a small force as 
rear guard, in the Pass of Roncesvalles, under the com- 
mand of the Count Roland, Warden of the March of 
Brittany. In the mountains was a band of wild moun- 
taineers, called Basques (baskz). This mountain tribe, 
learning that the rear guard was in the Pass, and hoping 
for plunder, swooped down upon the Franks, surprised 
them, and slew them to a man. In this fight Count 
Roland was slain. This is all that history has to say, 
but legend has seized upon the incident and turned it 
into an immortal and moving story. 

Each bard who handled the tale added new and 
picturesque features, till finally Charles is represented 
as two hundred years old, and is said to have conquered 
all Spain but the city of Saragossa (sar a gos'a). The 
Basques are turned into Mohammedans and their sur- 
prise raid becomes the planned attack of a traitor. 
There are added a magic horn, a magic sword, fairies, 


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flights of angels, miracles, and a great vengeance by 
Charles. 

Yet the story has a genuine historic value, for it 
pictures the fighting side of life in feudal France. It 
was very popular in mediaeval times, and it is said that 
the army of William the Conqueror charged into the 
Saxon army under Harold the Unfortunate at the great 
battle of Hastings, 1066 A. D., chanting the valor of 
Roland at Roncesvalles. 

Having indiscreetly told the truth, it now becomes 
the narrator’s duty to try to present the legend in such a 
way that the reader will forget the facts, while the 
legend becomes, at least temporarily, the truth. Here 
is the story. 

Charles the Great, King of the Franks, had long 
been fighting the unbelievers in Spain. Before his 
victorious arms, castle and keep alike went down. All 
Spain was his, save only the city of Saragossa, com- 
manded by the heathen king, Marsilus (marsel'us). 
Everywhere the standard of the Crescent Vv^as lowered, 
and that of the Cross raised. 

King Marsilus hated Charles, for he feared the 
ultimate victory of that great king. “Could we but 
drive him from the country,” he said; “then might we 
hope to regain our fortunes.” 

To him replied Blancandrin (blan can'drin) , his 
wise counsellor, “There is but one way to be rid of this 
Charles, and that is to pledge to him that you will be 
converted to his faith and become his vassal. Send, 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 


129 


therefore, to him, I pray you, rich gifts, lions and bears, 
gold and silver and all manner of precious things, and 
bid the messenger who is to bring these, deliver also 
your promise to Charles to follow after him, and accept 
the Cross, if he will but return to France at once with 
his army.” 

Then was Marsilus like one gone mad. He leaped to 
his feet, and struck his hand upon the Koran ; he frothed 
at the mouth. “I, become a dog of a Christian,” he said. 
^‘Never! There is but one God and Mohammed is his 
Prophet,” and he faced toward Mecca, the Holy City, 
after the manner of the Mohammedans. 

Said Blancandrin, craftily, “Said I become a Chris- 
tian? Nay, I said promise to become one if he will 
leave. He is so desirous of spreading his faith that he 
will be willing to believe. It is easy to believe what 
we wish to be true. He will take the bait, and go. 
When once he has left us, we can win back our lands 
and defy him.” 

King Marsilus hearkened unto the voice of Blan- 
candrin, and sent his gifts and messengers to the court 
of King Charles at Cordova (kor'do va). 

Charles and his barons were in gay spirits, for they 
had taken fair spoil in the sweet city of Cordova. 
When the messengers arrived, they found the great 
king and thousands of his cavaliers in a fruitful orchard. 
Some were singing, some were lying on the grass 
dreaming of far-away France, and some were gaming 
the time away. 


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The renowned Charles was seated on his throne of 
gold, under a pine tree. Truly, he was a notable figure, 
full seven feet tall, with long white beard and hair. 

To him the ambassadors did homage, and delivered 
the king’s message. Charles listened thoughtfully. 
This was his heart’s desire. It meant the completion 
of the Christian conquest of Europe. Still, he would 
not decide the question himself, but, after the fashion 
of the Franks, called his knights, and asked their advice 
as to what course to pursue. 

Now, many of the knights were weary of the long 
campaign in the foreign lands. They rejoiced at the 
seeming chance to return to their homes and their loved 
ones. Among these was one named Ganelon (ga'ne 
Ion), who afterwards became the traitor. He, desirous 
of quitting the heathen lands, urged the king to accept 
the offer made to him, and other nobles held with him. 
But the good Count Roland, Warden of the March of 
Brittany, spake in this wise to his uncle, the king, 
^‘Noble King, I am against this. Trust not Marsilus; 
he hath ever been a traitor. Slew he not the ambassa- 
dors we sent to him but a short time ago? Heed not 
the advice of Ganelon. Rather heed my advice. Take 
your army even to the walls of Saragossa, and reduce 
the city through siege. Leave not this fair land to the 
heathen.” 

Then one counsellor after another spake ; some hold- 
ing with Roland, and some with Ganelon. Amongst 
those who were in accord with Roland were his chosen 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 131 

friend Oliver, the Archbishop Turpin, and the Twelve 
Peers, who were the greatest nobles of France. 

After much discussion, the king decided to send a 
messenger to Marsilus, and offer him certain terms to 
consider. If he refused them, Charles determined to 
lead his army to Saragossa, and besiege it. 

Then the king bade the knights choose who among 
them should be the messenger. Roland said, “I name 
the Count Ganelon. Ganelon believes Marsilus. Let 
him be the ambassador.” Alas for Roland! He knew 
not when he named Ganelon, he named his own death. 

Now Ganelon was a craven coward, and he was 
full of fear lest Marsilus should deal treacherously 
with him, and slay him. But Charles bade him go, 
for in the Frankish army the one first named for a trust 
had to accept the command. 

When Ganelon rode on his way to Saragossa, his 
heart was full of hate. He plotted evil to Roland, of 
whom he was jealous because of the king’s favor, and 
whom he blamed for having chosen him as ambassador. 

When he arrived at Saragossa he found the king 
seated on a throne which was covered with rich silk. 

‘^An ambassador from the great King Charles,” 
announced a servant. 

Crowds of courtiers surrounded the heathen ruler, 
but not a word spake any one, all being intent to learn 
the will of the mighty Charles. The king bade Gane- 
lon approach. The courtier knelt before the throne. 
‘‘Rise,” said Marsilus, “and tell us the will of Charles.” 


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Then Ganelon told him that Charles sent greetings, 
and his will was that Marsilus must accept the Chris- 
tian faith and be baptized. Then one-half of Spain 
which Charles had taken from him should be his again, 
but the other half he must resign to the noble Roland. 
If Marsilus agreed not to these terms, then Charles 
would bring his hosts to Saragossa and reduce the city 
through siege. 

When he heard this Marsilus was again like one 
gone mad. Again he leaped to his feet, and frothed 
at the mouth. “Never will I be a dog of a Christian!” 
He smote the Koran, and faced Mecca, the Holy City, 
“There is but one God and Mohammed is his Prophet!” 
In his wrath he was for slaying Ganelon as the mes- 
senger. 

Now this mood of the king accorded well with the 
evil plans of Ganelon. Right well pleased was he to 
see the king thus disturbed. “Nay, slay me not,” he 
said. “I have other words for you.” As he spoke he 
looked long into the eyes of the king, and behold! 
Evil knew evil! Each knew the other was wicked. 

“Ah, ha!” thought the king, “this man hath some- 
what to say to me. This man is my own kind.” 

So he dismissed his officers, and when he was alone 
with Ganelon, he took counsel with him. “Will this 
Charles never be weary of warring?” he asked. 
“Surely ’tis time he sought rest in peace. Verily, ’tis 
said, he is quite two hundred years old. Why ceases 
he not from conquest?” 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES I33 

“Ah,” replied Ganelon, craftily, “ ’tis not the fault 
of the king that he lingers in warfare. Never while 
Roland, and Oliver, and the Twelve Peers of France 
live will he cease, for ever they urge him on. So 
listen,” he added. “I do so hate this Roland, and this 
Oliver, and these Twelve Peers of France, that I will 
play them into your hands to do with them as you will. 
When they are gone, Charles will fight no more.” He 
offered to betray his own people! 

Then was Marsilus over-glad, and together they 
plotted the ruin of Roland and his friends. And this 
was their evil plan. Ganelon was to return to Charles 
with Marsilus’ pledge complying with all Charles’ 
commands, on condition that he first pass on to France, 
and there await the coming of Marsilus. When 
Charles started to return, Ganelon was to persuade him 
to place Roland, and Oliver, and the Twelve Peers of 
France in the rear guard, with but a small force to 
attend them. Marsilus was to swoop down on these 
in the Vale of Thorns, which is the Pass of Ronces- 
valles, with three hundred thousand Saracens, in two 
divisions, and there slay the Franks to a man. 

“What excuse shall I give him for not taking his 
faith first?” asked the king. 

“Tell him you fear to accept it in your own land 
lest the people slay you. But you must send hostages 
to him. He will not believe without a hostage.” 

Then said the monarch, “Take my own son. He 

must believe me for my own son.” 

10 


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^^Good!” said Ganelon, ‘‘he must surely believe for 
your own son. But, mind you, sir, if you keep not your 
compact, your son will be slain.” 

“Let him be slain,” said the monarch. “What care 
I so I win back my lands!” 

Their evil plan completed, the two traitors kissed 
each other, and Marsilus said, placing his hand on the 
Koran, and facing Mecca, the Holy City, “I swear by 
the laws of Mohammed, I will keep my share of the 
compact. There is but one God, and Mohammed is 
his Prophet!” 

Then Ganelon, drawing his sword,* raised it and 
said, “I swear by my sword I will keep my share of the 
compact.” 

So back rode Ganelon to the court of King Charles 
with his hostages, and rich gifts, to make his lies seem 
more like truth. King Charles and his knights, except 
Roland, Oliver, and the Twelve Peers, believed the 
traitor; and, full of joy that the last heathen stronghold 
was to become a Christian city, they prepared to return 
to fair France. 

When Roland voiced his doubts to Charles, the 
king said, “Would a man give his own son as hostage 
unless he meant to keep faith? Would he give his own 
son to death?” But Roland was not persuaded. 

That night the great king slept ill, and his dreams 
were troubled. It seemed to him that he was in a 
strange mountain pass. Ganelon came, and snatching 
from him his spear, smote it against a rock, and shat- 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 


135 


tered it into a myriad fragments, and behold! each 
fragment took unto itself wings, and flew up, up, up, 
even into heaven itself. 

The king awakened, and sighed heavily. “A bad 
dream! Why dreamed I that Ganelon broke my 
spear?” 

He slept again and dreamed yet another dream. 
This time he thought he was in his own palace at 
Aachen, and a bear came, and leaped upon him, and bit 
him to the bone. And behold, the bear had the face of 
Ganelon! A lion and a leopard then came and the 
three beasts fought furiously. And the king cried, “A 
great fight! And no man may say who shall win!” 

Again the king awakened, for he was troubled, and 
he sighed heavily. “A bad dream! Why dreamed I 
that a bear, faced as Ganelon, bit me to the bone?” He 
slept no more that night. 

Though his dreams troubled him, he told them to 
no man. In the morning he gave his orders for the 
onward march from Spain. “We must journey through 
dangerous passes in the mountains,” said he. “Who 
shall command the rear guard?” 

Then out spake Ganelon, the false, quickly, “I name 
the Count Roland. To whom but the noble Roland 
should the charge be given? Is not the Count Roland 
the greatest champion of all France?” 

“Nay,” said Charles, and his dreams, unbidden, 
arose in his thought. “I could ill spare Roland. 
Choose ye another.” 


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A braver man than the good Count Roland never 
lived, and he said, “The charge is mine, good uncle. 
I have been named. Give me the charge.” 

Oliver, his beloved friend, cried, “Let me be with 
him, too.” So said the Twelve Peers, and likewise the 
Archbishop Turpin. All played right into Ganelon’s 
hands! 

Then Charles, seeing he must yield, bade Roland 
keep half the army for his guard. 

A prouder man than the good Count Roland never 
lived. “Nay,” he said, “give me but twenty thousand 
Men of France, and I will defy the world!” 

So the king gave him twenty thousand Men of 
France to be his guard. 

Now the sword of Roland was called Durendal 
(du'ren dal). It was a magic sword, made by the fairies, 
and it was of such fine temper that naught could notch 
or shatter it. The hilt was full of sacred relics and 
precious stones, and engraved upon it was the name of 
God. Roland also had a magic horn, made by the 
fairies. This horn was of pure elephant ivory, and it 
was called Olifant (ol'i fant). The sound of the horn 
could be heard ninety miles away. These two, sword 
and horn, Roland carried with him, and likewise the 
good bow of Charles, which the king gave to him. 

Then Roland mounted his horse, and with his com- 
rades, Oliver and Turpin and the Twelve Peers, and 
the twenty thousand Men of France, bade farewell to 
Charles and his army. 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 


137 


Charles kissed Roland upon either cheek, com- 
mended him to God, and then rode on with his army 
through the dark Valley of Roncesvalles in perfect 
safety, for Roland guarded the rear. Voiceless and 
vast, the mountains loomed on either side of the narrow 
valley, and a somber sense of loneliness filled the heart 
of the mighty conqueror as he wound his way onward, 
for he thought of the beloved Roland left behind and he 
thought again of his dreams and he sighed. 

Meanwhile, Marsilus gathered his army, a mighty 
host, and marched on toward Roncesvalles, where the 
heroes were. Bright flashed their armor in the glare 
of the sun, and so loud sounded their trumpets that 
Roland and his little company heard the sound and 
started. 

Not the trumpets of King Charles, for Charles was 
gone the opposite direction from the sound. Every 
ear was tense. 

Oliver looked at Roland. ^The Saracens!” he said. 
‘We shall battle them in this Pass.” 

Said Roland to Oliver, “Climb the hill, dear 
brother, look abroad, and tell me what you see.” 

So Oliver climbed the hill with speed, looked, and 
behel'd the heathen host. Far as the eye could reach, it 
stretched out, an endless line, and he called to Roland, 
“Oh, brother! ’tis the mightiest host that ever appeared 
upon earth! We have been betrayed to the heathen!” 

Hearing this, the Men of France murmured as one 
man, “Ganelon! Ganelon!” 


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But Roland bade them be still and prepare for the 
fight. ‘Tair lords of sweet France,” he said, “quit you 
like men! We do battle here to-day for God and our 
great King Charles!” 

Then said Oliver to his friend, Roland, “Blow your 
horn, Roland! Charles is not yet too far to hear its 
echo, and he will return to our help. Sound your horn, 
I say.” 

A braver man than the proud Count Roland never 
lived. “Nay, ’twould be a shame to sound it ere we 
have struck a blow. The harder the fight, the greater 
the glory. We shall smite the unbelievers, fear not!” 

But Oliver only repeated wisely, “Blow your horn! 
’Tis no disgrace. I have seen the heathen host. Far 
as the eye can reach, they press on — an endless line. 
Sound your horn, I say.” Still Roland refused, je'al- 
ous of his own honor. 

Then up rode Archbishop Turpin. He, too, had 
been to the hill. “Fair lords of sweet France,” he said, 
“yonder is a host of the heathen, such as mortal eye 
hath never seen before. To-day, I fear me, some of 
us must die, but they that do will be God’s men, and 
he will place them in His Paradise. Kneel you down, 
therefore, that I may bless you all ere the fight begins.” 

So down knelt the army of the Franks, and the arch- 
bishop blessed them, in the name of God and His holy 
Son. Then rose the Men of France, cheered and 
uplifted, and ready to do battle to the uttermost for 
their God and their king. Right royal was their array 



Archbishop Turpin blesses the French army before battle. 


139 




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as they fronted the heathen foe, crying aloud the battle 
cry of King Charles. Thus the Saracens met the 
Christian knights in deadly battle in the Pass of Ronces- 
valles. 

Now it was high noon when they rode into battle, 
and at that very hour a strange thing happened, miles 
and miles away, in far-ofif France. At middle-noon it 
became as night, and so fierce a storm broke over the 
land that all feared that the end of the world had come. 
But it was not the end of the world. It was only a 
sign, in his old home, of the coming death of Roland. 

Doughty (dou'ty), indeed, did the Men of France 
prove themselves that day, but none equaled Roland 
in valor and daring. Right and left smote he with 
his good sword Durendal, and right and left fell the 
Saracens before his mighty blows. Oliver, too, fought 
bravely, as did also Turpin and the noble Twelve Peers. 
And the Men of France charged where their chiefs led, 
and laid about so mightily that of the first assailing 
hundred thousand Saracens but one man escaped from 
the field. 

But, alas ! though the ground was red with heathen 
blood, so many of the flower of France lay dead that 
there were left of the twenty thousand of King Charles’ 
noble rear guard but sixty men. At what a cost these 
sixty sold their lives you shall yet learn. 

When Roland saw the handful that was left of all 
those gallant knights, his heart broke for grief, and, 
deeming it now no shame to do so, he lifted his horn 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 141 

of ivory and blew upon it a blast so loud and long 
that the blood burst from his mouth and his temples. 

Ninety miles away, King Charles, on his march, 
heard the sound. He reined in his horse. “Halt!” he 
said, and the whole mighty army of the Franks halted. 
“Hark! ’Tis Roland’s horn I hear. I fear me our 
men do battle back there in the dark passes of Spain.” 

But Ganelon, the false, spake hastily, “Nay, my 
lord, ’tis but a hunting horn you hear. Some hunter 
calls his dogs. Ride on! ride on! for the fair land of 
France!” 

The king, half-persuaded, rode on. Yet a second 
time Roland blew his horn. Sore, and in great pain 
of heart was he, and the blast was borne again to the 
ears of Charles. 

The king halted the second time, and again said, 
“Hearken! I hear it again. ’Tis the horn of my 
Roland! Heavy is my heart and full of fear for the 
noble men we left behind in the dark passes of Spain!” 

But Ganelon, the traitor, spoke yet again, denying 
the sound as before. “’Tis not Roland’s horn! ’Tis 
but a hunter. Ride on! Ride on! for the fair land of 
France!” 

And the king, half-persuaded, rode on. Roland put 
his horn to his lips for the third time, and so deep was 
his anguish that the very grief of his soul was borne 
on that blast to the ears of Charles. Then the king 
halted for the third time. “’Tis Roland’s horn!” he 
cried with a mighty voice. “Our men do battle! 


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Sound all the trumpets and ride back in hot haste to 
the dark passes of Spain!” He looked upon Ganelon 
as he spoke, and behold, a miracle! On that face the 
finger of God wrote the word — Traitor! Charles, see- 
ing this, cried, “You! ’tis you! You have sold your 
own countrymen !” And in grief and wrath he flung him 
out to the knaves of the kitchen to bind and hold till he 
be come again. 

Then, with every trumpet sounding, in the hope that 
Roland and the hard-pressed nobles of France might 
hear and take heart, the king and his army marched 
back through the mountains toward the Pass of Ronces- 
valles. 

But, alas! the king’s trumpets were not magic trum- 
pets, made by the fairies and the sound carried not to 
Roncesvalles, and Roland heard it not. 

And alas, again ! while the king was yet too far away, 
a new host of the heathen bore down upon the sixty 
nobles that were left! When Roland saw this new 
host, twice fifty thousand spears, he knew that the end 
was near, but still he cried aloud his battle cry, and 
rode into the fray, smiting the heathen with his deadly 
Durendal. 

Now in this fight it chanced that Oliver was 
wounded, even to death, and Roland, seeing it, bent 
over him in sore grief, and, as he did so, Olivers 
already death-dimmed eyes knew him not, but, thinking 
him some heathen foe, lifted his arm, and smote him 
with the last desperate strength of a dying man. Roland 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES I43 

glanced the blow aside, and spoke sadly, and softly, 
*‘Oh, dear brother, dost know me not? I am your 
own Roland.” 

Then Oliver knew him and cried in grief, “Forgive 
me, brother. I knew you not, and are you hurt 
of me?” 

“Freely do I forgive you,” said the other, “nor am 
I hurt of you.” 

Then Oliver clasped his hand in Roland’s, and 
prayed God to bless King Charles, the fair land of 
France, and his dear Roland. Then he closed his eyes, 
and behold! the heavens split in two, and a flight of 
angels came, and carried his soul up, up, up, as the 
fragments flew up in Charles’ dream, even into heaven 
itself. And Roland wept alone. 

So parted these two more than brothers. 

And now Roland looked, and saw that there were 
but two left to meet the foe, himself and the Archbishop 
Turpin, and these two both sorely wounded. At this 
Roland lifted his horn of ivory, and blew upon it once 
more — a feeble blast this time. Yet King Charles 
heard it; he paused and said, “ ’Tis Roland’s horn! 
But the man who blew that blast is a dying man. Speed 
you, my lords, that we may not be too late.” 

Therewith he caused all the trumpets in the army 
to be sounded, that Roland, perchance, might hear 
them. And this time the sound carried, even to the 
Pass of Roncesvalles, and Roland heard! “King 
Charles cometh!” he cried, “but too late!” 


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The heathens heard it, too, and they were in great 
fear. “King Charles cometh!” they cried. “We must 
flee!” But ere they fled the field, they smote once more 
at the heroes, Roland and Turpin. Roland they struck 
not, but Turpin fell mortally wounded. 

Hearing King Charles’ trumpets yet a second time, 
the heathens turned and rode away, leaving Roland, 
poor, dying Roland, alone on the field. 

Roland knew that his death was at hand. So he 
stretched himself upon the plain and prepared for 
death, and his soul drifted away to that strange Border 
Line twixt Here and There. But ere he crossed the 
line, a wounded Saracen spied him thus. 

“The Count Roland!” he cried, “and his magic 
sword Durendal! Could I but take that sword and 
place it in some Mohammedan mosque as a trophy, 
what glory were mine. All men, seeing it, would say, 
‘Durendal, the magic sword of Count Roland, taken 
on the great battle-field of Roncesvalles!’ I will get 
it.” He stretched forth his hand to take the sword. 
But the touch roused Roland, and back his soul flooded 
to him from the Border Line, and with it, his strength. 
Seizing Durendal, he smote the fellow and shattered 
his skull. “Who dares touch Durendal!” he cried, 
“who dares touch Roland!” 

Then, gathering his strength again, and seeking to 
break his good sword so no heathen hand might filch 
it, he raised his arm and smote the sword, once — twice — 
thrice — upon a great rock near him. But Durendal 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES I45 

was a magic sword, made by the fairies, and naught 
could notch or shatter it, and it broke not, nor splin- 
tered, but to this day there remains a rent it made in 
the mountains. This rent is called the “Breach of 
Roland.” 

Seeing he could not break the sword, Roland laid 
himself down again, facing the foe, with all his wounds 
in the front, clasping in one hand his ivory horn, Oli- 
fant, and in the other the hilt of Durendal. Then he 
closed his eyes, and prayed to God, as Oliver had done, 
to bless King Charles and the fair land of France. 

And lo! the heavens split in two, and there came a 
host from heaven and carried his soul up, up, up, even 
as the fragments flew up in King Charles’ dream, into 
Paradise, where was already the soul of his friend 
Oliver. 

So died Count Roland, Warden of the March of 
Brittany, Peer and Paladin (pal'a din), in the Pass of 
Roncesvalles, where he fought a great fight. 

Shortly after this, but alas! all too late, Charles 
came to the Pass. And when he saw the awful carnage, 
and beheld the bodies of all his nobles, his heart broke 
with its woe, and lifting up his voice, he wept, and the 
whole mighty army wept with him. 

Then said one of his followers, “My Lord, the King, 
why wait we here? Let us seek the cursed heathen 
that did the deed, nor rest till we take our vengeance.” 

So the king set a guard over the bodies of the slain, 
and went with his host to pursue the foe. 



146 


COUNT ROLAND AT RONCESVALLES 


147 


Now it was nigh sunset when they overtook them. 
The sun hung like a ball of fire upon the western rim 
of the world. If it dropped below the rim night would 
come on, and the foe would escape in the darkness. 
Then the king prayed, “Oh, God! stay the sun, nor let 
it be night till we have won our vengeance!” 

And God heard the prayer of Charles and held the 
sun, blazing on the western rim, for full three days till 
every heathen was slain. Then it dropped behind the 
hills and night came to the world. 

Having won his vengeance, Charles went back to 
Roncesvalles, and there gave honorable burial to all 
the slain who had fallen upon that fateful field. But 
the hearts of Roland, and Oliver, and Turpin, he had 
cut from their bodies and wrapped in fine silk. These 
he bore back with him to the fair land of France. 

Now when Charles returned to Aachen, there came 
to his palace a sweet lady, and she said to him, “Oh, 
King, where is he whom they call the Count Roland? 
He is my promised husband.” 

“Alas!” said Charles, and he sighed heavily, “the 
Count Roland is no more. He died in the Vale of 
Thorns, where he fought a great fight.” 

And behold ! at the word, she fell dead at the feet of 
the king. 

As for Ganelon, the traitor, he was condemned to 
be tied to four horses, and thus torn to pieces. 

All these things are said and told in the “Song of 
Roland.” 



CHAPTER XI 

OGIER THE DANE 

The story of Ogier (ojer) the Dane is told in 
an old chanson de geste (shon son' de zhest'), or song 
of history. Ogier is also known as Holger Danske 
(hol'ger Dans'ke). He was one of the famous pala- 
dins of Charlemagne, and a companion of Roland, 
Oliver, and the other peers of the emperor’s court. The 
legend concerning him is one of the most popular in 
romantic literature. 

The king of Denmark was very happy. He was 
the father of a beautiful boy whom he named Ogier. 

When Ogier was born six fairies came to his crib. 

148 


OGIER THE DANE 


149 


Each fairy put a blessing on him. They said he should 
be all things that are nice and good. The youngest 
fairy said he should not die, but should live with her 
in fairyland. 

Ogier grew up to be a fine young man. He was 
trained to be a knight and a hero. When he was six- 
teen years old, he went to live at the court of Charle- 
magne, the great king of the Franks. 

Charlemagne was a wonderful man, of colossal (ko 
los'al) stature. He had conquered all western Europe 
and was Emperor of Rome. He slept in a bed sur- 
rounded by one hundred wax candles and guarded by 
one hundred knights. 

^ Charles was very favorably impressed with Ogier, 
for the boy was handsome, of very open countenance, 
courteous, brave, and amiable. Ogier was knighted 
by Charles himself — a very rare honor. It happened 
in this wise. The king was called to Italy to defend 
Rome against the heathen Saracens, who were threaten- 
ing the country. The royal banner of France, called 
the Oriflamme (or'i flam), was carried in the battle by 
a knight named Alory (alory). This knight, hard- 
pressed by the foe, became panic-stricken, lowered his 
banner, and turned to retreat. 

Ogier was only a squire, an attendant on a knight, 
at this time, and did not bear arms. He was watching 
the battle. As soon as he saw the standard-bearer turn 
his horse, he rushed forward to him, and compelled 

him to dismount and disarm. He then donned the 
11 


WESTERN EUROPE 


^50 

armor himself, mounted the horse, seized the 
Oriflamme, and bearing it aloft, rode into battle, where 
he fought with such skill and daring that he attracted 
the attention and admiration of the whole army. 

In the fray, Charlemagne himself was set upon by 
a party of powerful Saracen knights who had him at a 
great disadvantage, and were about to slay him, when 
Ogier went to the emperor’s rescue. Right deftly he 
dealt the Saracens such vigorous blows that they scat- 
tered as chaff before a hurricane, and left the emperor 
unharmed. 

When the battle was over and Charlemagne found 
that it was Ogier, the boy, who had done such valiant 
feats of arms, he drew from its sheath his famous sword, 
Joyeuse, bade the lad kneel on the battle-field, and 
smote him thrice on the shoulder with the flat of the 
blade, thus giving him the accolade (ak'kolad'), the 
recognition which made him a member of the noble 
order of knighthood. 

The emperor had a son. Chariot (shar'lot). Char- 
iot had not distinguished himself at all in the battle, 
and he was very jealous and envious when he saw how 
his father honored the valor of the youthful Dane. 
His heart filled with the venom of hate for Ogier. He 
was angrier than ever at the elaborate celebrations in 
honor of Ogier’s knighting. The young champion 
received many gifts — armor, weapons, and golden spurs. 
The best gift was a noble sword which came to him 
from one of his fairy friends, the enchantress Morgana 


OGIER THE DANE 


151 

(morga'na). The sword was of invincible steel, 
bright and glistering, and it bore the words, “I am 
Cortana” (korta'na). 

For many years Ogier remained in the service of 
the great Charlemagne. He had many marvelous 
adventures and became renowned throughout the world. 
He married a beautiful maiden and became the father 
of a noble son whom he named Baldwin. 

Baldwin grew up to be like his father, handsome, 
able, affable and brilliant. All the court loved him 
except Chariot, the emperor’s son, who hated him for 
his father’s sake. One day, in a violent rage because 
the lad had defeated him in a game of chess. Chariot 
smote and slew the fair boy, and cared not for his deed, 
for he thought no retribution could befall the son of the 
emperor. 

When Ogier learned of the villainous deed, he was 
beside himself with grief and rage, for he well-nigh 
adored his son, and he vowed he would have the life 
of the slayer. Chariot, in fear, fled to the banquet hall 
of the king for protection, and to the very hall went 
the avenger. 

The king’s cup-bearer was about to serve the king 
with wine. Still holding the cup, he sought, at the 
command of the king, to stay the rush of Ogier. 
Enraged at this interference, Ogier seized the cup from 
the bearer’s hand, and dashed the wine full in the face 
of the king. This was a deadly insult, not to be lightly 
forgiven. Ogier was arrested and thrown into prison. 


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Here, to reduce his proud spirit, he was ordered a 
meager diet. His daily supply of food was to consist 
of a quarter of a loaf of bread, one piece of meat, and 
a quarter of a cup of wine. 

As Ogier was a man of immense size, being quite 
seven feet tall and correspondingly broad, this meager 
diet promised speedy starvation. 

His jailer was the good Archbishop Turpin, the 
chief religious officer of the court. Turpin dearly 
loved Ogier and resorted to a stratagem to provide more 
liberal rations for the prisoner. 

Each day he had two bushels of flour made into 
one immense loaf of bread, one-fourth of which was 
given to the prisoner. The piece of meat furnished 
was a quarter of a sheep or a calf. As for the wine, it 
was measured in a cup having a capacity of twenty 
quarts made specially for the purpose. 

Needless to say, Ogier, thus liberally supplied, 
thrived. The good archbishop was troubled with no 
qualms of conscience, and daily reported to the emperor 
that the prisoner received the prescribed menu — a quar- 
ter of a loaf of bread, a piece of meat, and a quarter of 
a cup of wine. 

Ogier was kept a prisoner for a long time, but a 
new Saracen uprising threatened the realm and the 
emperor felt the need of his services. The Saracens 
had offered to settle the trouble by a single contest with 
a Christian knight. No one in the court was willing to 
be the champion, and Charlemagne offered Ogier his 


OGIER THE DANE 


153 


freedom on the condition that he would undertake the 
contest. 

Ogier made a counter condition. will battle for 
the cause, if you will deliver to me your son Chariot 
to be dealt with as I choose, for the murder of my 
son.” 

To this condition the emperor finally agreed. The 
alarmed and guilty Chariot was brought, bound, to 
the court, and delivered to Ogier for vengeance. 

“Kneel,” commanded the knight to the culprit. He 
did so and all looked to see him slain. But Ogier only 
cut the cords that bound him. “Arise,” he said, “and 
be free. I forgive you.” 

At this noble conduct court and emperor alike 
cheered admiringly. Then Ogier prepared for the 
duel with the Saracen. 

Now Ogier was a skillful swordsman. He fought 
valiantly, but unavailingly, against the Saracen, who 
seemed to bear a charmed life. Every time the heathen 
was wounded he galloped away to one side of the field 
and rubbed the wound with some ointment, which he 
took from a bottle hanging at his saddle’s side. At the 
touch of the balm the wound healed. In the course 
of the battle, Ogier cut the left arm of the Saracen 
clean from his body. At once with his other hand the 
Saracen picked up the severed member, touched it with 
the balm, and set it in place. Instantly it grew fast to 
his body. 

Ogier now understood that it was the balm that 



But Ogier only cut the cords that bound him. 


154 


OGIER THE DANE 


155 


saved his adversary, and he cleverly unhorsed him, and 
drove him far from the reach of his saddle. Then he 
raised his good sword and with one blow smote the 
fellow to death. Thus was won a great cause on that 
heroic day. 

Charles was so pleased with the valor of Ogier that 
he sent him to Judea to fight the heathen in that land. 
Having reduced the land to submission, Ogier deter- 
mined to return home and embarked for France. 

All went well for a time and the vessel sailed 
onward, true to her course, till suddenly, in spite of the 
helmsman’s efforts, the ship veered to one side and 
made straight for a huge rock that loomed up in the 
sea. 

The rock was a magic lodestone, and drew all ves- 
sels to itself. Ogier’s ship, unable to resist the spell, 
sped swiftly toward the rock. Smash! Crash! It 
shattered into splinters like a cockle shell, and all 
aboard were dashed into the sea, where they miserably 
perished — all but Ogier, who was washed ashore cling- 
ing to a spar. 

When he recovered somewhat from the rude shock 
he had received, he began to investigate the country. 
It was evidently uninhabited, for not a sign of a human 
being was to be seen. While he was thinking of his 
fate, he was startled by the approach of two strange 
looking dragons covered with hard, glittering scales. 
Behind them galloped a wonderful white horse that 
breathed forth fire from his nostrils. Of course, you 


WESTERN EUROPE 


156 

have guessed these creatures were sent to Ogier by a 
fairy. 

Dragons and horses that breathe fire are somewhat 
alarming, but the actions of these were very friendly. 
They fawned upon Ogier and the horse knelt before 
him and seemed to say, “Mount me and ride.” 

Ogier accepted the mute invitation, and mounted. 
The horse rose at once and darted off like the wind. 
On, on, over hill, and moor, and mountain, till he 
came at length to a lovely valley in the midst of which 
stood a splendid palace surrounded by magnificent 
gardens. 

Once in the gardens, the horse checked his rapid 
career and knelt beside a beautiful fountain. Ogier 
dismounted, for he saw approaching a lady of rare 
beauty, carrying a wreath of flowers. 

She spoke kindly to him. “Wear my favor,” she 
said. “You shall be king of this realm.” So speaking, 
she placed the chaplet of flowers on his brow. 

No sooner was it on his head than a wonder hap- 
pened. All memory of his former life vanished. His 
wars, his home, his friends, his king, were alike all for- 
gotten. He saw only the lovely fairy and desired only 
to be with her. He was enchanted, for this was the 
fairy Morgana, one of the six who had attended his 
birth, and this realm was Avalon (av'a Ion), the Isle of 
Apples, Fairyland itself! 

Now, in the realm of Morgana, years passed like 
days. For a hundred years Ogier dwelt in the 


? ' >■ s <■' , >* 



The horse, carrying Ogler, knelt beside a beautiful fountain. 


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158 

enchanted region and knew naught of the passage of 
time. Sweet as a dream were the years. Never wind, 
nor storm, nor hail, nor grief, nor care, nor phantoms 
of yesterday vexed there his calm content. This con- 
dition might have lasted forever had Ogier never lost 
the crown of oblivion. But one day the fairy snatched 
it in sport from his head. 

In an instant his memory revived. All the desires 
of his natural state surged over him. He yearned for 
his old friends, and especially for King Charles. 

He begged the fairy to release him and permit him 
to return to his own realm. At first she refused, but 
as he would not wear the crown again, and grieved so 
deeply, she finally agreed to let him go. 

Full of joy, he mounted Papillon (pa peyon'), the 
horse that breathed fire, and rode to the shore. Here he 
met his friends, the two glittering-scaled dragons, who 
showed him by motions that they would carry him and 
his horse across the sea. So Ogier mounted one of 
them and Papillon the other, and they leaped into the 
sea and swam across the water to the shores of France. 
After their passengers were safely landed, the obliging 
dragons sprang again into the sea and swam back to the 
Lodestone Rock. 

Ogier, mounting Papillon, rode on till he came to 
the city of Paris. The-t:hanges he saw on all hands 
amazed him. He could hardly understand the speech 
of the people. Not one of his friends could he find. 

The nobles to whom he talked were as much aston- 


OGIER THE DANE 


159 


ished at him as he was at them, and when he asked to 
see Charlemagne and the lords of his court they thought 
he must be mad. 

They brought him before the ruling monarch, Hugh 
Capet (ka'pet), who listened to his whole story. The 
king and his court were amazed to learn that he was 
none other than the famous Ogier the Dane, who, the 
story-tellers said, had been wrecked on the Lodestone 
Rock a hundred years ago. 

The king took Ogier into his service and he went 
to war again and fought his old enemies, the Saracens. 
He always rode on Papillon, who so frightened the 
heathens by his fire-breathings that they retreated in 
disorder. 

In the course of time the king died, and shortly after 
a marriage was arranged between Ogier and the wid- 
owed queen. But the union was frustrated, for just 
as the twain knelt at the altar, the queen saw a hand 
place a strange chaplet of flowers upon Ogier’s brow, 
and in the twinkling of an eye he disappeared into air. 

He had been again enchanted by Morgana, the fairy, 
who did not wish him to marry another. With the 
crown of oblivion on his head, he permitted the fairy 
to transport him again to the sweet Isle of Avalon. 
There he still lives with her, and a court of splendid 
knights, such as those of the great King Arthur, who is 
in her realm, being healed of a grievous wound. 

Perhaps, some day, Ogier will again lose his crown 
and return as he did before. 



A feudal castle. 


CHAPTER XII 

THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM 

After Charlemagne’s death the dismemberment of 
his kingdom was rapid. In less than fifty years it was 
in three divisions governed by his grandsons. One divi- 
sion was called Lotharingia (lo tha rin'jia) , in honor 
of its ruler, Lothaire (15 tar'). A portion of that 
region is still called Lorraine (lo ran'). Another divi- 
sion was called East Frankland, which name was after- 
wards changed to Germany. The third territory was 
West F rankland, which became F ranee. The first king 
of this territory bore the suggestive name of Charles 
the Bald. 

The kingdoms all had their own troubles, for there 
were still marauders in the farther north who were not 


i6o 


THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM i6i 

yet Christianized. These were the Danes, with whom 
we shall deal in our story of England, and the Scan- 
dinavians, known as the Northmen, or Normans. One 
of these tribes from Sweden reached over the Baltic 
Sea, and under their renowned chief, Ruric (roo'rik), 
in the ninth century, conquered the Slavonic (sla 
von'ik) tribes of Russia, and there established the Rus- 
sian monarchy, whose history for centuries after was a 
series of wars and rumors of wars. 

Another branch of these bold vikings, as they were 
called, under the leadership of a chief known as Rollo 
the Ganger, ravaged the coast of France in the tenth 
century. This Rollo was an immense fellow, of such 
mighty stature that none of the small horses used by the 
Northmen could support his weight, and he had to 
walk while others rode, thus earning the name Rollo 
the Ganger, which means Walker, 

With his band of bold Northmen, Rollo took the 
city of Rouen (roon'), and even besieged the city of 
Paris, the capital of the French kingdom. These pro- 
ceedings much alarmed the reigning monarch, known 
to fame as Charles the Simple. He proposed to give 
Rollo and his Northmen a slice of France on which to 
settle, provided they would acknowledge him as over- 
lord and cease from war. Rollo agreed. 

Now, the service of doing homage, and becoming 
vassal to an overlord, required that the vassal, upon 
swearing allegiance, should kiss his lord’s foot. When 
this ceremony was explained to Rollo, he vigorously 



Paris, the capital of the French kingdom, besieged by Rollo. 


162 



THE growth OF FEUDALISM 163 

declared he would have no part in it; he would kiss 
no man’s foot. 

Things began to look dark and trouble loomed up 
again, but some resourceful mind suggested that Rollo 
delegate one of his men to perform the kissing part of 
the service. So Rollo selected a sturdy fellow, who 
at first objected to the act as vigorously as his master, 
but finally consented. 

When the day of the service arrived, the French 
king sat on a high stool in grand state, surrounded by 
his nobles, and Rollo, the Northman, attended by his 
pirate band, swore the oath of allegiance, and then 
beckoned his deputy to kiss the king’s foot. 

Instead of kneeling to the ceremony, as was 
expected of him, the Northman reached down and 
snatched the king’s foot up to his mouth; and the pro- 
ceeding upset the king. Nor did the suppressed smiles 
of his own nobles, and the unsuppressed guffaws (guf- 
faz') of his new subjects, serve to restore his equilib- 
rium (e'kwi lib'ri um) . However questionably it may 
have been performed, the service was legal, and Rollo 
was thus formally, or rather, informally, made Duke 
of Normandy, and vassal to the French crown. 

Rollo no sooner became a lord than he reformed 
and compelled his pirates to reform also. He abso- 
lutely forbade robbery and murder. His men soon 
found out that he meant what he said, for every time a 
man infringed upon the law he was hanged. 

These Northmen were very adaptable. They soon 


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affiliated with the refined French people, adopted their 
dress, manners, religion, and speech; and in less than a 
hundred years they had forgotten their Northman tra- 
ditions, and were good Frenchmen; their leaders mak- 
ing powerful Dukes of Normandy, as their territory, 
the northern part of France, was called. 

After the settlement of Normandy, the kingdom 
of France, fully established, pursued her varying his- 
tory to the present time. 

In that division of Charlemagne’s kingdom known 
as Germany, there was no union among the states com- 
posing it for many years. It never became a strong 
single country with a united government till the rise 
of Prussia in modern times. The story of its earlier 
centuries is a dreary record of internecine (in'terne'- 
sin) quarrels. 

Italy, during these same centuries, was a scene of 
riot and disorder. Her fortunes became involved with 
those of Germany. She was torn by dissensions that 
arose between Pope and Emperor. In the midst of 
these troubles during the twelfth century, independent 
cities arose that grew to great importance in the com- 
mercial world — Venice, Florence, Pisa (pe'za), and 
Genoa. This last name brings to mind the heroic man 
Christopher Columbus, and America! 

In the midst of these struggles a new form of gov- 
ernment, known as the Feudal System, was established 
in all these countries. The main idea of this system 
was that of land reward for military service. It prob- 


THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM 165 

ably had its origin in the old German custom common 
to the Teutonic tribes in the early days of their forest 
life, of rewarding valor and fidelity with the gift of a 
horse, or a shield, or a weapon. 

In those early days land was not a great prize in 
the eyes of the wandering tribes, but when they learned 
the lessons of civilization, no reward was more desir- 
able. 

In the days of the Dark Ages, it was often difficult 
for conquerors to hold the lands they subdued. To do 
so the chiefs needed many fighting men to be ready to 
respond to their calls. To secure these men, the rulers 
began the custom of dividing the conquered lands 
among their followers, upon the condition of service in 
war. Land thus given away was called a fief (fef), 
or feud. The person giving it was called the lord, and 
the one receiving it, the vassal. This arrangement was 
really a renting of land for service instead of for money. 

A fief, or feud, might be large or small — a few 
acres, or a great kingdom. A vassal might divide the 
lands given to him among his own followers, he being 
their lord, while he remained vassal to the lord who 
had bestowed the land upon him. These vassals might 
in turn become lords to vassals under them. 

This made the Feudal System a sort of chain where 
a man was lord to one below him, and vassal to one 
above. The king claimed to hold the entire country 
from God, or ‘^By the grace of God.” But he really 
held it by the grace of the sword of conquest. 

12 


i66 


WESTERN EUROPE 


When a man became a vassal he went through the 
ceremony of homage. Kneeling before his lord, he 
swore fealty in all ways. After the oath, a kiss was 
exchanged, and the lord placed in the vassal’s hand a 
clod of earth or a branch of a tree. This was the act 
of investiture, and established the vassal’s right as the 
holder of a feud. 

The chief duties of the vassal were to follow his 
lord in battle and to pay certain taxes. 

In return for these services, the lord pledged his 
protection to the vassal. To obtain this protection, 
men who had private property often gave it to a lord 
and became his vassal for it for the sake of his pro- 
tection. 

The vassals were bound to military service, and so 
they did not till the soil or work at trades. All such 
labor was done by serfs, who were mere fixtures on an 
estate and were deeded away with it just as the cattle 
were. 

At first the vassals were nearly all foot-soldiers, but 
it soon became apparent to the lords that they must have 
mounted soldiers. This led to the creation of the 
cavalry force, which was the beginning of feudal chiv- 
alry. 

With the growth of feudalism, the authority of the 
king lessened; for every fief was like a little state ruled 
over by its own lord. The lord held his own courts, 
punished offenders, settled disputes, and even coined 
money. Although the lords swore fealty to the king, 


THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM 


167 


he was quite at their mercy, for feudalism was really a 
government “Of the lords, by the lords, and for the 
lords.” This was infinitely better than the despotic 
(despot'ik) Asian governments, “Of the king, by the 
king, and for the king,” but it was far inferior to our 
own ideal of government, “Of the people, by the people, 
and for the people.” 

As long as Charlemagne lived, feudalism was of 
slow growth, for he kept the government in his own 
hands; but after his death, when pirates and pagans 
began assailing the different parts of the empire, the 
protection afforded by the feudal system caused it to 
spread rapidly. It insured the raising of an army when 
required, with the least possible delay. 

Feudalism as a government was general all over 
Europe till the fourteenth century. After the discov- 
ery and application of gunpowder it rapidly declined, 
for before the boom of the cannon the walls of the 
castles, the strongholds of feudalism, were of little 
avail. 

The great castles in which the lords dwelt were 
really walled towns. The site of a castle was generally 
a rocky eminence. This eminence, if not upon a river 
bank, was girdled about by moat, or ditch, generally 
twelve feet deep, and twenty or more feet wide. The 
wall built along the edge of the moat was ten feet thick, 
and fifty feet high. The watch towers on the wall rose 
to a hundred feet. The great gateway with the barred 
door was called the portcullis. Spanning the moat was 


i68 


WESTERN EUROPE 


a drawbridge, one end of which was made fast to the 
castle by hinges. In the center of the court, enclosed 
by the walls, was the great tower or keep of the castle, 
rising often two hundred feet above the surrounding 
land. In the walls were store-houses, smithies, kennels, 
stables, and servants’ quarters. 

In time of war, in his grim fortress, with drawbridge 
up and portcullis down, the lord might ensconce him- 
self and defy the king. 

Attacks were made on these castles by throwing 
rocks from catapults (kat'a pultz), or filling up the 
moat and running battering rams up against the walls. 

Ruins of these castles are to be found all over 
Europe, and to each ruin is attached a legend. 

The most famous of all these stories of castles is 
that of the Mouse Tower on the Rhine. In 914 A. D., 
in the time of Hatto (hat'to), the bishop of Mainz 
(mintz), there came a famine on the land, and the poor 
suffered greatly. Now Hatto had full granaries 
(gran'arez), but, though he knew the people about 
him were starving, he would not do a thing to relieve 
their distress. So insistent they became in their appeals 
that he made a cruel plan to be rid of them. He invited 
them all to come to his barn at a certain hour. Think- 
ing, of course, that he was going to give them grain, 
they, full of joy, arrived promptly at the appointed 
hour. There were so many of them that the barn was 
crowded to suffocation. When it would hold no more, 
the cruel bishop ordered the doors to be closed and 


THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM 


169 


locked. The startled people could not understand this, 
but they soon learned what it meant, for black smoke 
and tongues of flame told the story. The bishop had 
fired the barn! Frantic with terror, the wretched cap- 
tives begged to be set free, but he was remorseless. 
“You are nothing but rats,” he said. “Die like rats.” 

The bishop, satisfied with his work of destruction, 
went home to his castle for a feast, after which he 
went to bed and slept. The next day he found a 
strange thing had happened in the night. Rats had 
gnawed his picture out of its frame. He was quite 
appalled at this, for he was superstitious, and thought 
it portended bad luck. 

While he was meditating on this peculiar occur- 
rence, a servant rushed in, full of excitement. “Flee,” 
he cried, “flee! An army of rats of incredible numbers 
is pouring down on the castle.” 

The bishop rushed to the window to see. Yes, there 
they were — not as single spies but in battalions! He 
tore out of the castle, and, mounting his horse, raced 
oflf like mad. Like mad marched the army of rats 
after him. Faster, faster, he urged his steed to the 
river. He reached it, and leaping into a skiff, rowed 
desperately out to a tower on an island. 

He breathed freely — he was safe! He barred the 
tower. No rat could get there! no rat could swim the 
river! But he was mistaken. When they reached 
the river, the avengers boldly dashed into the waters, 
and swam across to the tower. There they set their 


170 


WESTERN EUROPE 


sharp teeth to work, and the trembling bishop heard 
them gnaw, gnaw, gnaw! till the holes were through. 
Then, in they swarmed, and wrought their work of 
vengeance. 

In at the windows, and in at the door, 

And through the walls, helter skelter they pour. 

And down from the chimney, and up through the floor. 
From the right and the left, from behind and before. 

From within and without, from above and below. 

And all at once to the bishop they go ! 

They whetted (hwet'ed) their teeth against the stones. 

And now they pick at the bishop’s bones. 

They gnawed the flesh from every limb, 

For they were sent to do judgment on him! 


The bishop knew what you have guessed — these 
avengers were the souls of his victims whom he had 
condemned to die like rats. 

To this day you can see on the Rhine River, the 
Rat Tower of Bishop Hatto. 

Some of these fortress-castles were battered down 
by besieging catapults and rams, but one, at least, was 
swallowed up in the earth. 

Near Andernach (an'der nach) , on the Rhine, is a 
deep lake. Where the waters of this lake spread was 
once a hill, on the summit of which a wicked robber- 
knight had a great castle. 

By chance one day this knight ate of a certain 
magic fish, and immediately he understood the Ian- 


THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM i/i 

guage of all living creatures. His marvelous power 
did not bring him great joy, however, for he only 
learned through it how people hated him. 

One day he overheard the conversation of two hens. 
It alarmed him. 

Said the first hen, “At sunset, to-night, because of 
the evil done by our wicked lord, the castle shall sink 
into the earth.” 

“Shall we, too, perish?” asked the second hen. 

“Yea,” replied the first, “the innocent often suffer 
because of the guilty, and besides, one might as well 
perish that way as to die in the soup.” 

If the hens were resigned to perish, the knight was 
not. He determined to escape, so, hurrying, he gathered 
some valuable jewels, and mounted his horse to ride 
away from the castle. Just as he reached the gateway, 
the sun set, and with a roar like judgment day, the 
ground opened, and castle, knight, and hens, too. were 
swallowed in the abyss (a bis'). 

Above the place arose the deep waters of a lake. 
At sunset from these waters is reflected a peculiar fiery 
glow, and the country folk along the Rhine say this light 
is a reflection from the warm regions where the wicked 
robber-knight is spending eternity. 

There is an amusing legend about the castle Rhein- 
graf enstein ( rin graf 'en stin ) . This is built upon a very 
inaccessible rock. When the builder of the castle was 
contemplating its erection, he was puzzled about how 
to get it accomplished. 


172 


WESTERN EUROPE 


Suddenly before him appeared a creature with 
horns and hoofs, and smelling of sulphur. This, of 
course, was the evil one from the lower regions. 

will build the castle for you in a single night,” 
said the evil spirit, “if you will give me, as payment, 
the soul of the first living thing that looks from a win- 
dow when the building is finished.” 

The knight agreed to this condition, and, sure 
enough, the very next day there stood the castle, perfect 
in every detail. 

But the nobleman was sad — the condition attached 
to the deed troubled him. He told his wife the story. 
“If we enter,” he said, “some one of us will be sure to 
look out of the window and will be lost.” 

The lady thought a moment. “It pays a man to 
have a wife,” she said. “I have a plan. Follow me 
and fear not.” 

So her husband, knowing she had good sense, let her 
manage things. Riding on a donkey, and followed by 
her family, she entered the castle. The donkey soon 
learned why he, too, was brought in. 

The lady, taking off her own shawl, pinned it about 
the donkey’s neck, and put on his head her own night- 
cap with a large frill about it. and then led him to the 
window. 

The donkey naturally looked out, and immediately 
the evil one, on the watch, flew up, caught him by the 
neck, and pulled him through the window. “I have 
you, my lady!” he cried triumphantly. You see the 


THE GROWTH OF FEUDALISM 


173 


frill and the shawl deceived him, but he soon discov- 
ered his error, for the alarmed donkey began to bray 
vigorously. Disgusted at the trick played on him, the 
evil one dropped his captive, for there was no room in 
his kingdom for donkeys. 



A French monastery. 


CHAPTER XIII 

THE GROWTH OF MONASTICISM 

Monasticism (mo nas'ti siz’m) is the Church 
institution which deals principally with the life of 
religious retirement pursued by monks in monasteries. 
This institution dominated the spiritual life of the Mid- 
dle Ages just as feudalism dominated the political life 
of the same period. 

The monastic form of religious life was not peculiar 
to Christianity. We find it connected with many other 
religions, notably with the Buddhist (bood'dist) faith, 
but it is with its Christian phase we are chiefly con- 
cerned. 

As a Christian institution it was the outgrowth of 
hermit life. In the early days when Christianity was 
struggling for existence, certain adherents of the faith 

174 


THE GROWTH OF MONASTICISM 


175 


became imbued with the idea that they could lead a 
purer life and consecrate themselves to the service of 
God more completely by living in solitude apart from 
the distractions and temptations of the world. There- 
fore they retired to unfrequented places, where, “far 
from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,” they could 
meditate undisturbed upon holy things. These recluses 
were called hermits, or anchorites (an'korits), and 
many of them had very distorted ideas as to what would 
be pleasing to God. 

Believing that mortification of the flesh insured the 
salvation of the soul, many of the hermits treated them- 
selves with great austerity (aster'ity), choosing for 
their habitations bare caves, mouldy cellars, unhealthful 
swamps, or uncomfortable pillar tops. 

Sometimes they whipped their own bodies till the 
blood ran; they imposed upon themselves the discom- 
forts of filth, letting their hair grow long and tangled, 
never washing themselves, and permitting flies and 
other insects to swarm upon them and bite their flesh 
into sores. 

One of these half-mad fanatics was St. Simeon 
Stylites (sim'eon Stili'tez), who lived in Syria from 
390 to 549 A. D. This man was an “air-martyr,” or 
pillar saint, and dwelt for “thrice ten years” upon a 
pillar top, having scarcely room to turn around. 
Unshielded from the bitter elements, he endured super- 
human pangs. 

Lord Alfred Tennyson made the experiences of this 


176 


WESTERN EUROPE 


self-scourged air-martyr the subject of a noble poem, 
entitled “St. Simeon Stylites.” The lines present a 
vivid picture of a hermit’s insane fanaticism (fanat'i- 
siz’m). 

Of course, such folly as this was not pleasing to God 
at all, and after a time the hermits themselves realized 
this and changed their mode of worship. They grad- 
ually abandoned their isolated abodes and began to live 
together in communities which eventually became the 
great orders of monasticism, their dwellings being 
called monasteries. 

One of these orders was the famous Benedictine 
(ben'e dik'tin) Order, so called for its founder, St. 
Benedict, who lived in the sixth century. This monk 
prohibited the fanatic behavior of the hermits, decreed 
that the members of the order must respect the body and 
keep it clean, eat proper food, and live like rational 
beings. 

A costume was selected which was to distinguish the 
order. Each monk was to wear a coarse black robe, 
with a cowl, or hood, which could be drawn over the 
head, and the robe was to be girdled at the waist with 
a cord. Because of their black gowns the Benedictines 
came to be known as the Black Monks. Other orders 
founded at later times were called from the colors of 
their respective robes the White Monks and the Grey 
Monks. 

The code established by St. Benedict required obe- 
dience to three essential laws, poverty, chastity, and 


THE GROWTH OF MONASTICISM I77 

obedience. The law of poverty required a monk to 
renounce all private ownership in earthly posses- 
sions ; by the law of chastity he was forbidden to marry, 
while that of obedience compelled him to submit un- 
questioningly to the will of his superior officer, the 
abbot. 

St. Benedict further decreed that the members of 
his order should dwell together, secluded from the 
world, in religious houses, called monasteries, which 
were walled about to shut out the intrusions of the 
world. 

Each monastery was so ordered that it was a sort 
of settlement that supplied for itself all the necessaries 
of life, and rendered communication with the outside 
world needless. 

A monastery was not one building, but several, sur- 
rounded by closely mown lawns, with gardens and foun- 
tains. One of the buildings was a church or chapel, 
built cross-form, the long portion being divided into 
a nave for the worshipers, and a choir for the monks 
and singers. The arms of the cross were called the 
transept, in which were kept the sacred relics through 
which miracles of healing were claimed to be wrought. 
These relics were bones of saints and articles once 
touched by holy hands. 

The churches, in which the Latin Mass and other 
services were celebrated, were miracles of architecture. 
They were generally constructed with vaulted roofs, 
and round-headed or pointed windows of stained glass 


178 


WESTERN EUROPE 


picturing events in the life of Christ or of some saint. 
Their slender spires, crowned with holy emblems point- 
ing heavenward, seemed as monitors to the soul, urging 
it to lofty aspirations. Rare ivories and enamels, mag- 
nificent mosaics, rich embroideries, and service vessels 
of gold and silver added to the splendors of these holy 
sanctuaries. 

The church was the most beautiful of the monastery 
buildings. Others of less imposing grandeur were the 
refectory and the dormitory. In the refectory, which 
was the dining room, the monks ate their meals in 
silence while one of their number read from the Bible 
in Latin. The dormitory was the sleeping apartment, 
and in this each monk had a separate cell sparely fur- 
nished with a rude board bed, and a stool to kneel upon 
at prayer. 

Besides these buildings there were many workshops 
where the monks toiled at different trades, for the rules 
of the institution prescribed definite labor for all mem- 
bers of the monastery. “To work is to pray,” was one 
of the mottoes of the order. So the monks were very 
busy. They tended the gardens, planted, sowed, and 
reaped; cooked their food and washed their dishes; 
swept and dusted ; tanned leather and made shoes ; wove 
cloth and fashioned garments; and worked with the 
hoe, the fork, the rake, and the ax. 

The more learned monks spent much time in the 
scriptorium (skrip to'ri um) , or library. In this they 
wrote their famous illuminated manuscripts done on 


THE GROWTH OF MONASTICISM 


179 


vellum, a fine kind of parchment, using rude goose 
quills dipped in many colored inks. These manuscripts 
were fashioned into scrolls, or were bound in boards 
which were sometimes covered with pictures or fine 
cloth. All these manuscripts were written in Latin, 
which was the only language of educated men. The 
stories they told, which are sometimes too marvelous 
for belief, are our chief record of happenings in Europe 
during the Dark Ages. In reading these we must 
learn to distinguish between fact and fancy. 

The priests spent a portion of their time in the 
cloister porch. This porch, with its colonnade of beau- 
tiful columns, extended about the dining and sleeping 
apartments. Up and down the porch paced the monks 
with bent bodies and bowed heads, piously telling the 
beads of their rosaries. The bent body and bowed head 
were indicative of humility of soul and were enjoined 
by the laws of St. Benedict, who said, “Let the monk 
always show humility, not only in his heart, but with 
his body also. Let him always be with bowed head, 
his eyes fixed upon the ground, and let him remember 
every hour that he is guilty of his sins.” 

The growth of monasticism was very rapid, and it 
spread throughout all Christian Europe. In time the 
orders grew immensely wealthy through the pious gifts 
of kings or princes or nobles. Vast tracts of lands were 
deeded to them, which they improved and cultivated, 
thus aiding in bringing about a revival of agriculture. 

Early in the thirteenth century another style of 


i8o 


WESTERN EUROPE 


J 


monastic life was introduced into Europe by St. Francis 
of Assissi (a se'se), who founded the Mendicant (men'- 
di kant) Order of Begging Friars. Through the 
decrees of this order, the members, instead of secluding 
themselves in monasteries, and spending their time in 
private prayer and penance, concerned chiefly about 
their own salvation, had to become evangelists, devoting 
themselves principally to the spiritual interests of 
others. 

The vows of the Mendicants enjoined humility, love, 
and obedience. The vow of humility embodied a vow 
of poverty which not only forbade individual posses- 
sions by the members, but also by the order, which must 
rely entirely upon alms for its support. The Mendi- 
cants became a very powerful organization, and, coarse- 
robed and barefooted, had scant affinity for the well- 
housed, well-fed, well-clothed monks of the great 
monasteries. The Mendicants, from the different col- 
ors of their robes, were known as the “Black Friars,” 
“Grey Friars,” and “White Friars.” 

To St. Francis, the gentle founder of the new order, 
a great many miracles are attributed, among which is 
one that credits him with preaching his gospel to a 
company of birds who gravely listened to him with 
much better attention than many humans pay to their 
spiritual advisers. 

Every monastery, too, had a record of wonderful 
miracles, and many beautiful, even if unproven stories 
are told of them. According to tradition, the monks 


THE GROWTH OF MONASTICISM 


i8i 



of one monastery in particular were under the guardian- 
ship of the fairies, or “wee folk,” as they were called. 
The monks of this monastery always received a three- 
days’ notice of approaching death. The one about to 
pass away would find in his stall in the chancel a cer- 
tain snow-white flower, and he knew by the favor that 
his hour was at hand, and accordingly spent the 
remaining interval in prayer and sacred meditation. 

The monks had many stories about God’s reproof 
for vain-glorious pride. Perhaps the tenderest of these 
stories is this. In a certain monastery there was an 
imbecile boy whom the monks had, as it were, adopted. 


WESTERN EUROPE 


182 

This boy did the chores and did them well, but it was 
impossible to teach him his prayers or hymns. He 
seemed to understand nothing but the phrase, “I love 
God.” This he repeated on all occasions. His stupid- 
ity irritated the monks, and they feared his chances of 
salvation were very slim. 

Said one, “How he wearies me with his everlasting, 
T love God!’ Much good it will do him on Judgment 
Day.” 

Now, it chanced the imbecile boy died, and was 
buried under the snow in the -churchyard. The monks, 
being very much concerned about his soul, went to the 
grave the day after the burial to pray for him. When 
they arrived there, behold! in the snow on the lonely 
grave there blossomed in fair red roses the imbecile 
boy’s only prayer, “I love God!” 

Then the monks were abashed and understood the 
reproof. 

Monasticism with its monks and monasteries is not 
the vital element in the world to-day that it once was, 
but in its time it was a mighty institution that did vast 
service to the age in which it flourished. As Emerton, 
the historian, says: “We must learn to judge men and 
institutions by the use they had in the day in which 
they belonged, and not by the use they might have for 
us in these better times.” 

If we take this noble attitude of mind, we shall be 
able to look back at Europe in the centuries following 
Charlemagne’s reign, and see her, toiling on through 


THE GROWTH OF MONASTICISM 183 

the night of troubled times to the dawn of a glorious 
destiny, to the achievement of the Brotherhood of Man; 
for that is God’s ultimate intention for the world, and 
no matter how man may try to circumvent that aim by 
strifes and wars, it most surely will come to pass — 

^ that one divine, far-off event, 

To which the whole creation moves. 


Printed in the United States of America. 



THE GOLDEN RULE SERIES 

By E. Hershey Sneath, Ph.D., LL.D., Professor in Yale University; George Hodges, 
D.D., D.C.L., Dean of the Episcopal Theological School, Cambridge, and Edward Law- 
rence Stevens, Ph.D., L.H.D., Associate Superintendent of Schools, New York City. 


Golden Ladder Book, The. Third Grade. 

Cloth. i2mo. xiv + 264 pages. 48 cents. 

Literature selected and adapted to suggest the correct moral response 
in affairs within the experience of the child. The home and school 
\irtues are especially emphasized. 

Golden Path Book, The. . Fourth Grade. 

Cloth. i2mo. xiii + 280 pages. 52 cents. 

Literature selected to cultivate a moral attitude toward life. The 
simple \’irtues are dealt with. 

Golden Door Book, The. Fifth Grade. 

Cloth. i2mo. xiii + pages. 60 cents. 

Literature selected to illustrate the beauty of right conduct. The 
community \irtues are especially emphasized. 

Golden Key Book, The. Sixth Grade. 

Cloth. i2mo. xiii + jjp pages. 60 cents. 

Literature selected for its definite moral appeal to the developing child. 

Golden Word Book, The. Seventh Grade. 

Cloth. i2mo. xiii + 338 pages. 60 cents. 

Literature selected to illustrate the simple laws of moral action and 
reaction. The economic and political virtues receive special considera- 
tion. 

Golden Deed Book, The. Eighth Grade. 

Cloth. i2mo. xiii -|- 351 pages. 60 cents. 

Literature selected for its pow^erful appeal through noble thought and 
moral sentiment beautifully expressed. 


For Teachers 

Moral Training in the School and Home 

By E. Hershey Sneath, Ph.D,, LL.D, ; George Hodges, D.D., D.C.L, 

Cloth. i2mo. 221 -h xii pages. 80 cents. 

Moral instruction through the use of literary selections by the indirect 
method. 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


cmcAGo 

BOSTOIf 


SAN FRANCISCO 
NEW YORK 


ATLANTA 

DALLAS 


EVERYCHILD'S SERIES 



Cloth, i6mo, illustrated, each 40 cents 

ALSHOUSE : 

Heroes of the Nation. For Intermediate and Grammar Grades, 
Tales of the heroes of many lands. 

ANDERSON: 

Stories of the Golden Age. For Intermediate Grades. 

Legends of the Age of Pericles. 

BEMISTER : 

Indian Legends. For Intermediate Grades. 

The life and the traits of character of the American Indian. 

BENDER: 

Great Opera Stories. For Intermediate Grades. 

Famous operas told in a simple charming way. 

BIRD AND 
STARLING: 

CALHOUN : 

Historical Plays for Children. For Intermediate Grades. 
Dramatized stories of historical characters. 

Book of Brave Adventures. For Intermediate Grades. 

The brave adventures of heroes of many lands. 

CALHOUN: 

When Great Folks Were Little Folks. For Grammar Grades. 
Plain little boys and girls who grew up and accomplished great 
things. 

DICKSON: 

Pioneers and Patriots in American History. For Intermediate 
Grades. 

Our forefathers in the days of the Revolution. 

DICKSON: 

Camp and Trail in Early American History. For Intermediate 
Grades. 

The early discoverers and explorers of our country. 

DUNN: 

What Shall We Play? For Primary and Intermediate Grades. 
Dramatizations of a variety of well-known children stories. 

FARMER : 

Boy and Girl Heroes. For Intermediate Grades. 

Interesting incidents in the childhood of well-known heroes. 

FLETCHER: 

Old Settler Tales. For Intermediate Grades. 

Stories of boys and girls in pioneer days. 

FROELICHER: 

A Collection of Swiss Stories. For Primary and Intermediate 
Grades. 

Ancient beliefs and historical legends of the Swiss. 

GARDNER: 

Nature Stories. For Primary Grades. 

The beauty and usefulness of insects, animals, and flowers 
told in a way that appeals to the imagination of a child. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


CHICAGO 

BOSTON 


SAN FRANCISCO 
NEW YORK 


ATLANTA 

DALLAS 


EVERYCHILD’S SERIES — Continued 


HALLOCK: 

In Those Days. For Intermediate Grades. 

Really true stories of Grandmother’s Day. 

HARLAN: 

The Building of Cities. 

HOPKINS: 

The Knight of the Lion. For Intermediate Grades. 

A delightful story which preserves the quaint style of the 
original French. 

JAMES : 

The Building of Cities. For Grammar and Intermediate Grades. 
A discussion of the building and the growth of cities. 

LARGE : 

A Visit to the Farm. For Intermediate Grades. 

The adventures of a city boy who visits his country cousin. 

LARGE: 

Old Stories for Young Readers. For Primary Grades. 

A collection of stories which all children ought to read. 

MacELROY: 

Work and Play in Colonial Days. For Intermediate and Gram- 
mar Grades. 

Stories of the life of little children in colonial days, at home and 
in school. 

OSWELL: 

Old Time Tales. For Primary Grades. 

Ballads and folktales that children of the Old World have 
heard for hundreds of years. 

OSWELL: 

A Fairy Book. For Primary Grades. 

A collection of good stories of fairies and other little earth people. 

OSWELL: 

Stories Grandmother Told. For Primary Grades. 

Old fairy stories interestingly told. 

REYNOLDS: 

How Man Conquered Nature. For Intermediate Grades. 

Stories that will give vitality to the study of history and geog- 
raphy. 

STOCKTON: 

Stories of the Spanish Main. For Grammar Grades. 

A collection of stirring adventures on land and sea, portraying 
scenes of historical and literary value. 

UNDERWOOD : 

Heroes of Conquest and Empire. For Intermediate and 
Grammar Grades. 

Old stories of famous conquerors told with freshness and vigor. 

WARNER: 

Nonsense Dialogues. For Primary Grades. 

Mother Goose in dramatic form. ’ 

WERTHNER: 

How Man Makes Markets. For Grammar Grades. 

The story of commerce. 

YOUNG: 

When We Were Wee. For Intermediate Grades. 

A vivid picture of child life in war times. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


CHICAGO 

BOSTON 


SAN FRANCISCO 
NEW YORK 


ATLANTA 

DALLAS 


True Stories of Great Americans 

New Illustrated Biographies of Our National Heroes Written for 

Boys and Girls 

Cloth, i2mo, illustrated, each 50 cents 

This important new series of brief and vivid biographies for -boys and 
girls gives an intimate picture of the lives of our greatest national heroes. 
They tell the most striking incidents of our history in the personal terms 
of interest to children, and establish in their hearts and imaginations char- 
acters great in ideals, achievements, and patriotism, — true and worthy 
heroes to follow. 

In each instance the author has been chosen either because he is particu- 
larly interested in the subject of the biography or is connected with him by 
blood ties, and possessed, therefore, of valuable facts. 


DANIEL BOONE 

By Lucille Gulliver 
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 
By Mildred Stapley 
DAVY CROCKETT 

By William C. Sprague 
GEORGE ARMSTRONG CUSTER 
By F. S. Dellenbaugh 
THOMAS A. EDISON 

By Franklin Rolt-Wheeler 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 
By E. Lawrence Dudley 
ROBERT FULTON 

By Alice C. Sutcliffe 
ULYSSES S. GRANT 
By Lovell Coombs 
NATHAN HALE 

By Jean Christie Root 


SAM HOUSTON 

By George L. Bryan 
JOHN PAUL JONES 
By L. Frank Tooker 
LAFAYETTE 

By Martha Foote Crowe 
LA SALLE 

By Louise S. Hasbrouck 
ROBERT E. LEE 

By Bradley Gilman 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

By Daniel E. Wheeler 
WILLIAM PENN 

By Rupert S. Holland 
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH 
By Rossiter Johnson 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 
By W. H. Rideing 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 


CHICAGO 

BOSTON 


SAN FRANCISCO 
NEW YORK 


ATLANTA 

DALLAS 




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